


In His Shoes

by faierius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Arguing, Blow Job, Body Swap, Combat, Cunnilingus, Dialogue Heavy, Dream Sex, F/F, Family, Feels, Fighting, Fingering, Flashback, Fluff, Gladnis, Lesbian Character, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Oral, Orgasm Denial, Other, Promptis - Freeform, Rimming, Rough Sex, Side Character - Freeform, Violence, big bro gladio, but not actually gladnoct, caring gladio, character history, character injury, established relationships - Freeform, gladnis but in a promptis package, gladnoct - Freeform, near characters death, phoenix down is awesome stuff, regret after sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-01-15 22:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 56,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12330459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faierius/pseuds/faierius
Summary: After too long in cramped quarters, the boys are at each other's throats. Their fighting summons the daemon Tuudoh, whose sole purpose is to tear relationships apart. But like everything in life, there's far more to it than that. Vengeful souls take it upon themselves to make the lives of Noctis and his retinue very difficult.





	1. Can't We All Just Get Along?

                This was like nothing any of them had ever seen before. The group was well-versed in combat with daemons, ranging from fantastical beasts to humanoid creatures. They had seen ones as beautiful as the Glacian and as horrendous as the most unspeakable nightmares. _This_ daemon was a freakish mishmash of things both stunning and frightful.

                Standing tall, at least eight feet, this horrifying monstrosity was dizzying to look at. Features both distinctly masculine and feminine flowed across the entire monster in a bizarrely seamless patchwork. The genderfluid face changed expressions rapidly, a flickering concoction of two very distinct beings. Two separate entities warring over one body.

                Screaming and roaring with two voices, the daemon’s clumsy, lumbering movements had an organized disarray to them. Like two people who used to work well together, but had forgotten how. Its motions, its attacks, everything about this daemon was unnerving.

                None of their retaliations worked. Each attack, defense, spell they used was simply shrugged off. This never-before-seen creature easily beat them back, crushing them, thwarting their every attempt at bringing it down.

                They were exhausted.

                Noctis stumbled after a failed swing, tripping Ignis in the process.

                “Watch your bloody footing, Highness!”

                “Bite me, Specs!”

                “Why should I take away the one thing Prompto seems so good at?”

                “Leave him out of this!”

                “Pay attention!” Gladio barked, sidestepping the business end of Ignis’ lance.

                “Hey, guys? Little help here!” Prompto called, firing at the daemon while ducking a swing of its massive hand.

                “Deal with it,” Gladio snarled back.

                “Hey!”

                “Don’t want to hear it, Noct!”

                Both vocal and not, internal and external, the men heard a shout. _Enough!_

                Stopping dead in their tracks, the group focused their attention on the monster. Stunned, fuzzy-eyed, their faces fell slack as they stared. It turned its ever-shifting face on each of them, a constant string of unintelligible words filling the air around the team.

                Entranced, they watched with vacant eyes. Heavy eyes. Heavy limbs. Unsteady limbs. Soon they could no longer hold themselves up, their legs giving out beneath them. All at once, the boys hit the ground and passed out.

 

_~A Few Hours Earlier~_

                “I’m just sayin’ it’s not easy,” Noct grumbled, crossing his arms as he sank low in his seat.

                “What, Noctis?” Ignis snipped back. “What isn’t easy? Sleeping until noon, or being waited on hand and foot? Please, I would very much like to know.”

                “Hey, that’s kinda uncalled for, isn’t it Iggy?” Prompto piped up from the passenger seat.

                “Says the guy who gets to benefit from His Highness’ laziness,” Gladio grumbled.

                “What? I do more to help than you do!” Prompto pointed out, spinning around in his seat to face Gladio.

                “You tellin’ me I don’t carry my weight?”

                “Gladio assists me when I ask,” Ignis stated.

                “Oh surprise, surprise. You’re jumping to his defense,” Noct grumbled, giving the driver’s seat a light punch.

                “I am merely pointing out facts. Something you seem keen on ignoring.”

                “Oh yeah?” Noct inquired, brows raised. “And which facts are those?”

                “Try the fact that while you’re dragging us around to help out Hunters and vendors, the Empire is still plotting our deaths,” Gladio answered.

                “Believe me, I haven’t forgotten.”

                “So you just want to pretend nothing’s wrong?”

                “Leave him alone, you big bully,” Prompto told Gladio.

                “At least I’m not a little coward!” retorted Gladio, crossing his arms.

                The interior of the car erupted in shouts of varying volume from all four men. Long restrained criticisms came to light as they slung petty, childish insults at one another. Gladio’s snoring. Prompto’s overly enthusiastic nature. Noctis’ sulking and noisy eating. Ignis’ long, dull lectures.

                Too many days on the road, spending long hours either confined in the car or tent had taken its toll on the group. Immature complaints sprung forth, barbed and meant to wound. They were all exhausted, filthy, aching, and at the ends of their respective ropes.

                “I’ve had more than enough of this!” Ignis barked as he slammed on the brakes.

                A comment about over salted skewers died on Prompto’s lips as he grabbed the dashboard. “Holy crap, dude!”

                Pushing the door open, Ignis got out of the car and walked a short distance from the vehicle while the others watched.

                “You idiots did it now,” Gladio spat, pushing himself out of the car as well. He followed after Ignis, leaving Noctis and Prompto behind.

                Prompto stared at the two men, eyes wide. He could see Ignis’ shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “I’ve never seen him act like this,” he commented, turning toward Noctis.

                “Who cares?” Noct grumbled, slouching low and propping his chin in his hand. “He’ll get over it.”

                “He’s pretty mad, dude.”

                “So am I! But I guess that doesn’t mean anything.”

                “Course it does, Noct,” Prompto sighed, reaching between the seats to put his hand on Noctis’ knee. “We all just need to calm down.”

                “What we need is a hotel and separate rooms.”

                “And a bath.”

                Noctis nodded his agreement.

                With a soft chuckle, Prompto patted Noct’s leg and turned back around. He knew Noct was back to sulking, but he was feeling pretty crummy, too. He wouldn’t give up his relationship with Noctis for anything, and he couldn’t do anything about Gladio and Ignis being together, not that he would change that either, but _something_ had to be done. He hated how they were all at one another’s throats.

                In the middle of the highway, Ignis and Gladio appeared to be having a similar conversation. Ignis was fuming, Gladio setting a hand on his arm to calm him. It was an odd shift in dynamic, but this was an odd circumstance for them. Little arguments were common, but they had never blown up like this before.

                Prompto watched Ignis take a deep breath and adjust his glasses while Gladio kissed the top of his head. With a final reassurance, they came back to the car. No one said a word. Ignis kept his eyes locked dead ahead as they resumed driving. Silence, heavy and oppressive, settled over them. It was almost worse than the yelling.

                An hour passed without so much as a sniffle, and the sun began to dip behind the horizon. Ignis pulled the car onto the side of the road and they piled out. Gathering their gear, they headed to the nearby Haven. No one was stupid enough to complain about spending yet another night in the tent.

                They set up camp and ate dinner in complete silence. Ignis, still clearly angry, cooked one of Gladio’s favorite dishes with a heaping helping of beans as a side dish for Noct’s sake. Petty though it may have been, it made the bespectacled man feel a hint better.

                After dinner, Noct grabbed Prompto’s hand and tugged him away from camp. No questions or bids to be careful followed, and Noct fount it hurt more than he cared to admit. Annoyed, he yanked Prompto behind him.

                “Noct, where are we going?”

                “Dunno.”

                “We aren’t safe out here after dark,” Prompto reminded him.

                “We’re barely safe during the day!”

                “Noct, stop!”

                Sighing heavily, the man stopped. The stillness of the forest pressed in on him despite Prompto standing right behind him. The blond didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around Noctis’ waist and put his forehead on the man’s shoulder. Closing his eyes, he focused on Prompto’s warmth.

                “I don’t want to be angry,” he mumbled. “But they’re pissing me off so much.”

                “I know, pal. We’re all in the same boat.”

                The ground rumbled beneath their feet.

                “Uh, Noct? Was that you?”

                “Pretty sure Titan wouldn’t help this situation any.”

                The ground shook again, rustling the leaves in the trees surrounding them.

                “Maybe we should head back?”

                A bright light flashed through the trees. A mournful howl followed. Noctis summoned his weapon.

                “Seems like a good time to burn off some anger,” he growled, breaking out of Prompto’s grip and running into the forest.

                “Noct, wait!”


	2. Out of Body Experience

                Prompto was the first to wake. His limbs didn’t want to cooperate, all heavy and ungainly. His head throbbed and he was dreading opening his eyes to the sunlight beating down on them. Everything felt intact despite the hard-fought battle they lost last night, but that didn’t mean his friends faired the same.

                “Noct?” he questioned. Oh Gods, his voice sounded awful, deep and gravelly. What had that thing done to him? He sounded like Gladio. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Noct?”

                “Here,” Ignis called.

                Slowly opening his eyes, Prompto pushed himself into a sitting position. His body moved like a lead sack, but he got himself up. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he paused. “Why do I have a beard?”

                “Huh? Did you hit your head, big guy?” Ignis asked, raising a brow at him.

                “Big guy? I think it was you that hit your head. Where’s Noct?”

                Ignis scowled. “I’m right here.”

                “Yeah, yeah. Very funny Iggy.”

                “No…what? Maybe you need glasses, too. How the hell can you confuse me with Specs?”

                Prompto narrowed his eyes. “Uhhokay. Why don’t you listen to yourself, and look at yourself, bud? You are most definitely _not_ Noctis.”

                Scowling deeply, Ignis got to his feet. He was squinting hard as he looked down at himself. Patting his chest, he saw his hands and an eyebrow rose. “What the hell?” he whispered, eyes shooting wide. Head snapping up, he glowered at Prompto. “Why do I sound like Specs? And why am I wearing his clothes?”

                “Uhh…because you _are_ Specs? You’re freaking me out, dude.”

                “No, no, I’m Noctis. What the hell is going on here?”

                “Iggy, careful. You’re gonna step on your glasses,” Prompto told the man, pointing at his feet.

                “I don’t wear glasses!”

                “Okay, you’re confused, Iggy.” Leaning forward to push himself off the ground, Prompto looked down at his hands. Too big, connected to thick, uncovered wrists, connected to huge tattooed forearms. Prompto’s jaw dropped. “I’m…Gladio?”

                “Uh, yeah?” Picking up the glasses, Ignis scowled at them before slipping them on his face. Surprise washed over his features.

                Prompto managed to get to his feet, staggering under his own unfamiliar weight. “Did that daemon spray us with something? I’ve gotta be hallucinating.”

                “Hallucinating what?”

                “This?” Prompto answered, swinging his arms wide. “You’re Ignis, but you say you’re Noctis. I look like Gladio, but I’m Prompto!”

                “You’re Prompto?”

                “Yeah, dude! At least I was before we got knocked out. Aw, man! This sucks.” The complaint sounded so weird coming out in Gladio’s voice.

                “Tell me something only Prompto would know,” Ignis—Noctis?—asked him.

                “The first time we fooled around, you chaffed my nipples so bad, nothing could touch them for an entire day afterward,” he replied, staring at the ground as he spoke. Saying this to someone who may not be Noctis churned his stomach, even if it was Ignis.

                “Okay. That was gross coming out of Gladio’s mouth.”

                “Your turn. I need to know you’re Noct.”

                “You have matching freckles on the underside of your butt cheeks. And one on your inner left thigh.”

                Prompto’s lip curled. “Oh Gods, don’t say stuff like that in his voice. It’s so _wrong_.”

                “Ugh, tell me about it.”

                “Okay, so if you’re Noct, and I’m Prompto, where the heck are Gladio and Iggy?” Scrubbing a hand over his intensely itchy beard, Prompto took a few lumbering steps toward Noct. He was wobbly on his feet, movement slow and heavy. How the hell did the big guy manage in such a huge body? Everything was clumsy and sluggish. Each step thundered through his entirety.

                “We weren’t very far apart when we went down,” Noct replied, crossing his arms and slouching in typical Noctis fashion. It looked odd on Ignis’ body. He huffed and dropped his arms. “This is so weird. Ignis is so… _gaingly_.”

                “Try being a human behemoth,” Prompto replied, focusing on each step.

                “This is bad enough, thanks.”

                “Guess we should look for them.”

                Scowling deeply, Noctis nodded.

                “On the bright side, at least we don’t have to search at night,” Prompto commented, trying to instill a little optimism into the situation.

                Noct didn’t reply as he pointed out two lumps in the grass a short way off. Testing out their new bodies, they jogged through the clearing toward their friends. Prompto tripped over his massive feet and hit the ground next to his own prone body. Seeing himself like this was mind-boggling. His face looked the same, but different, little things out of place with the image he had of himself. He shuddered. His brain wasn’t built for this.

                “Oh, I pray to whichever of the Six that’s listening its Ignis in here,” he muttered, reaching down and patting his own cheek. “Rise and shine!”

                Light blue—nearly purple—eyes fluttered open. His brow furrowed, the eyes taking a moment to focus. When they locked on the face of Gladio looming over him, the eyes shot wide, a rather unmanly scream erupted from him, and he scrambled backward crab-style.

                “Holy shit! What the hell kinda bad joke is this?” he squeaked.

                Sighing, Prompto lowered his head. Gladio. Just his luck. “Relax, big guy. I know what this looks like.”

                “Do you? Is your face staring back at you?”

                “Actually, yeah!” Prompto watched the comically confused expression spread across his features. “Listen Gladio, this is gonna sound crazy, but we’ve switched bodies. Somehow.”

                “What?”

                Prompto snorted at the flat look on his face. Seeing his own expression was simultaneously creepy and entertaining. “Believe it or not, but it’s Prompto in here,” he said touching his chest—Gladio’s chest.

                Every aspect of his rented-out face wrinkled up. “What?” Gladio asked again.

                “It would appear we are in quite the predicament,” said Ignis, his speech filtered through Noctis’ voice.

                “A predicament? We’ve all changed bodies, and that’s what you’re calling it?” Noctis replied.

                “You’re all just accepting this?” Gladio demanded, eyes wide.

                “What else do you propose we do? Nothing will come of us panicking.” Ignis answered, scowling through Noctis’ bangs.

                Prompto watched Gladio’s mouth open and close as he tried to think of a reply. “What?” was all he managed.

                Unsteady, Ignis rose to his feet. He frowned as he took stock of the strange new body, feeling out old aches, powers attached to the body of the Lucis Caelum bloodline, the different stature… “Alright,” he sighed. “We’ve been at one another’s throats for days, but we need to set petty differences aside at the moment.”

                “How’re you so calm about this?” Gladio demanded again, glaring at the body that used to be home to Noctis.

                “What choice do we have?” Prompto asked, standing up straight and extending his hand. Gladio accepted it, and not used to his new strength, Prompto nearly threw him across the field.

                “Watch it!” complained Gladio, stumbling.

                “Sorry!” Prompto felt his cheeks heat up, brows drawn as he gave the man an apologetic glance.

                Ignis smirked, Noctis’ features taking on a more mature appearance as he did. “I’m not used to seeing color in your cheeks, Gladio.”

                “Shuddap!” Huffing, Gladio crossed his arms. Narrowing his eyes, he looked up at Prompto. “I think you got the better deal in this arrangement.”

                “Really, you wanna pick a fight now?” Prompto grumbled, rolling his eyes.

                “How the hell am I supposed to do my job like this, huh? Prompto’s got all my strength, my mass, probably my weapons, too.”

                Sighing, Ignis turned his head first to Prompto. His brow twitched when he realized the man he wanted to address was no longer in there, and he turned to Gladio. “You’re being childish, Gladio. This is a bizarre inconvenience for all of us, and we need to sit down and discuss things. Out in the open is not the place to do so. Let’s head back to camp.” Ignis reached up to adjust his glasses out of habit, but only touched the bridge of his nose. Lowering his hand, he surveyed the area before turning and walking away from the group. The others hurried to catch up.

                The short walk through the forest was awkward and silent. All four men took the time to acquaint themselves with their new selves. The new stride, the way their clothes fit, the way power flowed through them, even the way things smelled seemed different. Not to mention the way the world _looked_. New eyes, new perspective. But this was just the beginning for all of them.


	3. We Don't Talk About That

                Noctis stared at his own face. Not a reflection. Not a picture. His own face. He was not meant to see himself from this angle, and it was disorienting. He assumed the others felt the same. Did he always look this way, or was there influence from his body’s current occupant? Surely this grouchy scowl wasn’t something which always adorned his features.

                “Highness.”

                His title coming out of his own mouth, in his voice. Weird. “Yeah?”

                “We’re supposed to be having a discussion here, remember?”

                “M’listening,” he answered, tilting his head. There was something morbidly fascinating about studying his own features through a different set of eyes.

                “You very clearly are not. Please, this is a serious situation, and I would appreciate it if you would treat it as such.”

                “I am! But c’mon, Specs. You have to admit this is a unique chance. Haven’t you ever been curious about how you look to someone else?”

                Sighing, Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve never given it much thought, honestly. And looking at myself while talking to you is giving me a headache. Noctis, please I know this is an uncomfortable topic, but I really need you to focus.”

                Slouching against the side of the Regalia, Noct looked to where Gladio and Prompto were holding a similar conversation at their campsite. It was decided they needed to set some ground rules, and it was best done in confidence with the person they swapped with.

                “You and I will be experiencing things neither of us was meant to experience. This includes knowledge of one another’s bodies. Any daily functions should be performed with detachment as not to embarrass one another.”

                “Got it. Don’t stare at your junk when I have to pee.”

                “Prince Noctis!”

                “What?” he laughed. Maybe this was all taking its time to sink it, but the entire situation was laughable. Someone had to make jokes, even it, absurdly enough, it was him.

                “Please be a little less bawdy about this. If we want to come out of this ordeal more-or-less the same as we’ve gone in, some things need to be said. Now, given the status of our relationships, I feel we need to make a no physical contact policy. Engaging in any sort of romantic rendezvous would be a gross breach of trust.”

                Noctis cringed with his entire body. “I wouldn’t be caught dead messing around with that Behemoth.”

                Ignis’ brow twitched into a scowl. He was torn between telling Noctis that was _his_ Behemoth he was insulting, and asking the man if he was so shallow he would no longer want anything to do with Prompto if he didn’t _look_ like Prompto.

                “You’d better not get any ideas in your head, either,” Noctis grumbled, crossing his arms.

                Ignis scoffed. “Hardly. But on that note, any…marks we may find will remain undiscussed, understood?” Pink tinged his cheeks.

                “With the way you teased me and Prom, I never would have thought something like this would embarrass you, Specs.”

                “And I would have thought it would bother you more than it seems to be,” Ignis retorted.

                Noctis exhaled a sharp breath. “Apparently you don’t blush as easily as I do because I am mortified.” He readjusted the obnoxious glasses on his nose and sighed again. “I wanna talk about this stuff as much now as I did in middle school. Personal boundaries should be obvious.”

                Ignis nodded in agreement. “I also feel we should take time to acquaint ourselves with weapons and skills while we’re like this. It wouldn’t do to be caught unawares.”

                “Shouldn’t the first order of business be finding out what that daemon was and how we can reverse this?”

                “Ideally, yes. But should we find ourselves in combat, we ought to familiarize ourselves with the weapons we’ll be using. It shouldn’t be a problem for us, as we are well versed in various forms of combat. Those two, however, will have difficulty. Prompto, not having the stature for it, is unfamiliar with Great Swords, and Gladio hasn’t much experience with firearms.”

                Noctis dipped his head in a nod. The man had a point. “How do you think they’re getting on?” he asked, directing his attention to the two men pacing back and forth on the Haven.

                Ignis studied them for a while. “They aren’t as familiar with one another as we are. Boundaries may be a little more difficult for them to set.”

                “Prom’s really withdrawn about a lot of stuff. Will Gladio respect that?”

                “Give him a little more credit, Noctis. You ought to know the type of man he is.”

                “I do, but they were pretty mad at each other.”

                “So were we.”

                “I guess. I mean, I’m still exhausted, filthy, and pissed, but we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

                Hearing such casual wording come out of his mouth, in his voice, was bizarre, to say the least. Sighing through his nose, he watched Noctis as the young man kept his eyes on their friends. Though it was his own body, he could see Noctis inside. The way he moved, held himself, stood silently watching was very much like Noctis even though he was seeing the body of Ignis Scientia perform the actions. The same could be said for Prompto and Gladio. Their differences are stark, but body language went a long way as well. It was almost like watching the boys do imitations of one another. Amusing, in its own right.

                Prompto, in Gladio’s body, paced, fidgeted, and gestured as he spoke. Gladio, in Prompto’s much smaller frame, replied with only a few hand movements, standing tall with his chest puffed out. Like a puppy posturing to an adult dog.

                Ignis smirked.

                “Hey.”

                “Yes?”

                “I know Gladio’s in there, but that’s still _my_ Prompto.”

                “Relax, Noctis.”

                The man narrowed his eyes, watching Ignis for a moment before turning back to observe the others.

                Up on the hill, Gladio and Prompto talked. Or argued. Or _something._

                Prompto frowned. “They’re watching us.”

                “Probably trying to decide if we’re done.”

                “We would be if you’d be reasonable for two seconds.”

                Gladio sighed, rubbing a hand over his chin. He didn’t know if he could get used to the smooth skin of Prompto’s face. He’d had facial hair pretty much since the time he could grow it. “How am I being unreasonable?” he asked, blinking slowly.

                “Oh, I dunno, how about refusing to respect my privacy?” Prompto asked with an exaggerated gesture of his hands.

                “What privacy? The four of us spend every minute of the day together.”

                “I still have…secrets,” he muttered, eyes flicking subconsciously to the band which permanently adorned his wrist.

                Gladio didn’t miss the darting eyes. “This?” he asked, raising his arm. He looked up to see unfamiliar expressions crossing his own face. Fear being the most prominent.

                “Please, Gladio,” Prompto whispered, lips parted. “I know it’s asking a lot, but _please_ don’t take that off. Don’t even look underneath. I’m begging you, pal.”

                Gladio frowned, seeing small, soft Prompto beneath the gruff, scared exterior that made Gladiolus Amicitia. He didn’t like any of this. “Okay. Relax, Prompto. Does Noct even know what you’re hiding under here?”

                Prompto gave a tiny shake of his head.

                “Oh.” Gladio dropped his arm and exhaled a heavy sigh. “Shit. Well, I won’t look. I know we’ve been at each other’s throats, but I’m not that much of an asshole.”

                Relief washed over what used to be Gladio’s face. “Thank you. Uh, one more thing?”

                “Yeah, sure.”

                “Please don’t go shirtless while you’re borrowing my body.”

                “Why? Too embarrassed by your scrawny body?” scoffed Gladio, making a show of flexing one arm and patting his bicep.

                “Hardly. I’ve got plenty of muscle,” Prompto answered, not taking the bait like Noct often did. “Though I do have some…image issues?”

                Gladio narrowed his eyes. “You, the embodiment of confidence and exuberant personality, have body image problems? I’m not buying it.”

                “Hey, we’ve all got problems, Mr. Never Wears A Shirt,” Prompto grumbled, eyeing his chest with disgust. “Despite being well-toned, I’m not a fan of the way my belly looks, and I prefer to keep it covered, okay?” He muttered the last few words, refusing to meet Gladio’s eye.

                “Okay, I can respect that.”

                “Anything you want me to do?” Prompto asked, feeling a little safer with his body in Gladio’s possession.

                The big guy thought for a moment. “Nah, I’m pretty much an open book.”

                Prompto scrubbed a hand over the cropped hair at the side of his head. “Okay, well, that’s easy enough.”

                “Just…don’t mess around with Noct while you’re in there.”

                “Same goes for you and Iggy.”

                “Works for me.” Gladio extended a hand.

                Prompto accepted the hand, giving it a firm shake. The pair stared at one another before grins washed over their faces. Breaking the handshake, Gladio gave Prompto a playful shove, only this time the normally smaller man didn’t budge.

                “Suddenly this isn’t as much fun.”

                Shaking his head, Prompto waved at Ignis and Noctis. He hid his grin as the two walked over. Noct, usually casual in his gait, sometimes slouching, sometimes just lazy in his steps, was now walking with Ignis’ confident stride, minus the unavoidable hitch caused by Noctis’ old injury. Ignis’ body on the other hand, under the influence of Noct, now moved with a slower, laid-back pace.

                “Alright?” Ignis asked when they joined Gladio and Prompto.

                “We’ve worked out what lines not to cross,” Gladio confirmed, dropping into one of the camp chairs. Used to his bigger size, he misjudged the length of his legs and hit the edge of the seat. He hit the ground hard, flipping the chair onto his head.

                A rush of air passed Noctis’ lips and he doubled over, laughing.

                Ignis hid his smirk behind his hand.

                Prompto quirked a brow. “Hey big guy, I’d appreciate it if you could return the goods in the state you found them. I don’t need bruises on my butt.”

                Noctis was certain exhaustion had a lot to do with it, but seeing this whole scene play out, Prompto with a Gladio-esque glare, Gladio with Prompto’s soft amusement, his own face with maturely restrained laughter, was absurd. And hilarious. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he couldn’t catch his breath.

                “Okay, knock it off. It wasn’t _that_ funny,” Gladio muttered, getting back to his feet.

                “It was hilarious!” panted Noctis, bent over with his hands on his knees.

                “I thought it was rather endearing,” Ignis admitted.

                “Aw, c’mon. Not you, too Ig’,” Gladio complained, dusting off his backside.

                Ignis shrugged, crossing his arms. He wasn’t entirely sure if he thought Gladio’s fall was cute because he was Ignis reacting to an uncommon thing for Gladio to do, or if this was Noct’s body reacting to a common thing for Prompto to do. Things like this would become very difficult to discern as time went on, he had no doubt.

                “Iggy? You okay in there?”

                Torn from his thoughts, Ignis raised his head to see golden brown eyes watching him with concern. “Ah. Yes, fine. Thank you, Prompto,” he replied after a moment of hesitation. “What do you say we have some breakfast before we start the laborious task of fixing our current predicament?” Turning away from the others, he hoped they didn’t see his brow twitch into a scowl.

                This wasn’t good. Gladio’s eyes didn’t give him any reaction at _all_. Because their relationship was still relatively fresh, any expression, no matter the intensity, directed at him with those beautiful eyes _always_ did something to him. A breath hitch, a skipped heartbeat, a swarm of butterflies to briefly take up residence in his belly, or any sort of overly romantic problems. Not this time. Those physiological responses were not tied to this body.

                This presented an entirely new batch of problems. Ignis hoped they could reverse whatever magic had taken hold of them before it caused irreparable damage not only to their minds but their hearts as well.


	4. My Body Won't Change My Heart

                “You have to sit in the back.”

                “I don’t like sitting in the back! I get car sick.”

                “Since when?”

                “Since always! That’s why I sit in front!”

                “You don’t have car sickness, you just like to have an unimpeded view of the road.”

                “No, I’m telling you if I don’t sit in front, I get queasy.”

                “Look Prompto, that was my body for twenty-three years. I’m tellin’ ya, sick or not, you have to sit in the back.”

                “Big guy knows best, bud.” Noct whacked Prompto on the back, his hand lingering between the man’s shoulder blades. The Prompto Pout settled on Gladio’s rough features was cute. Too cute for Gladio, actually. Something flip-flopped in Noct’s belly.

                “Fine,” Prompto whined. “But if I bard down the back of your neck, don’t blame me,” he added, walking toward the Regalia. He didn’t notice Noctis’ wide, panicked eyes as he snapped his hand away.

                “Just go to sleep if you feel nauseous,” Gladio told him, following him to the car.

                Prompto glanced over his shoulder. “Unlike you, I can’t sleep sitting up.”

                “Bullshit!” laughed Gladio, pulling open the passenger side door of the car. “I’ve seen you sleep like the dead up here.”

                “Quite true. Though you do snore more when you’re sleeping upright,” Ignis added, getting in behind the wheel of the car.

                A dark blush colored Prompto’s cheeks. “I don’t snore! Noct!”

                “You snore, Prom.” Chuckling, Noct resisted ruffling Prompto’s hair. He was suddenly aware of how much he touched Prompto, and how this new body reacted to Prompto’s new body when he did.

                “And here I thought you’d be on my side,” Prompto sighed, flopping into the back with Noct.

                “Sorry, dude.”

                Prompto narrowed his eyes. “No, you aren’t.”

                “Hey, if you need to lay down to sleep, Iggy’s thighs are surprisingly cushy,” teased Gladio, nudging the man as he adjusted his seat.

                “Gladio!” Ignis scowled at the man, blushing deeply. “Ignoring such a ridiculous comment, I believe we should refrain from touching one another unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Finally getting his seat in the right spot for Noct’s height, Ignis started the car.

                “Okay, I get not messing around, but why touching in general?” Gladio asked, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms.

                Ignis hesitated. Clearly, Gladio had yet to notice the way his current form reacted to Noctis’ body as opposed to Ignis’. “Safety precautions. You know as well as I do innocent touches do not always remain as such.”

                “Yeah, okay. Makes sense. So, where should we hit up first? Lestallum or Meldacio?”

                “We’re more likely to learn something out at Meldacio. Loads of weird stories about daemons come out of there,” Noct replied, fixing the position of his glasses for what felt like the thousandth time.

                “And they have plenty of space for us to practice our new skills and weapons,” Ignis added.

                “Someone should give Dave a call, let him know what’s up. Maybe he can get a head start on research for us,” Gladio suggested. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, scowled, and reached underneath him. He pulled out Prompto’s camera.

                “Oh! I’ll take that!” Snatching the device from the man, he leaned back in his seat and turned it over in his hands. Content his camera was intact, he stashed it in one of Gladio’s pockets.

                “Noct, would you call him, please?” Ignis requested.

                “Gonna be fun explaining why I sound like you,” Noct laughed dryly, pulling out his phone.

                “Yes, well, that is the reason for our visit in the first place.”

                “Yeah, I know.” Wrinkling his nose, he stared at the phone for a moment. Setting it on the seat beside him, he leaned forward and reached around the driver’s seat. Without announcing his intentions, he awkwardly shoved his hand into the pocket where he normally kept his phone.

                Ignis let out a yelp, pulling the car into the opposite lane in his surprise. “You could have just _asked_ for your own phone, Highness!” he stated, voice cracking as he got the car back under control.

                Gladio snorted. “Is being in Iggy’s body making you bolder than usual?”

                “Hey, he’s in _my_ body,” Noct answered, returning his attention to his task now that he had his own phone.

                “Hey, big guy?” Prompto asked, leaning forward.

                “Yeah?”

                “If you need anything out of your pockets, how ‘bout asking first?” he told the man, grinning.

                “You got it.”

                Noctis rolled his eyes while Ignis blushed profusely.

                “I’m glad you two seem to be enjoying yourselves,” Ignis grumbled through clenched teeth.

                “Relax, Ig’. Yeah, this sucks, but at the moment there’s nothing we can do.”

                “You seem to have changed your stance awfully quickly.” Ignis glanced over at Gladio, eyes narrow.

                Twitching his shoulders in a shrug, Gladio relaxed in his seat. “Now that I’m a bit more used to it, it’s not so bad being small for a little while. It’s a…It’s a learning opportunity.”

                Ignis raised a brow.

                “What? I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation.” A frown settled on his face.

                “How mature of you, Gladio.”

                “Hey, I can be mature.”

                Catching himself before he could lean over and pat the man’s leg, Ignis gave him a fond smile instead.

                Slouching in his seat, Prompto watching the exchange. On one hand, he felt like he was watching himself and Noct, but on the other, he swore he could see Iggy and Gladio just because their actions were different. Either way, he could see the love in their eyes as they gazed at one another. It was cute.

                Prompto’s brows slid into a frown. Other than the weirdness of it all, what was wrong with general touching, or even kissing? Technically it wouldn’t be cheating because their bodies would still be with the right person, as would their minds. Though now that he thought about it, even if he kissed Noct, he wouldn’t be comfortable knowing he, fundamentally, was Prompto putting his lips on Ignis’. It was a messy concept that made his head hurt. Now that he couldn’t, he really wanted nothing more than to cuddle Noct and trade soft, gentle kisses.

                “Dave said he’d see what he could dig up before we arrive this evening.”

                “Has he encountered anything like this before?” Ignis asked, slowing the car to allow a pack of beasts to cross the road.

                “I’m guessing by the long pause after I explained it to him, no. Probably not.”

                “I’m not surprised,” said Gladio. “I’ve never seen anything like that daemon, either.”

                “We’ve fought all sorts of weird things, but that was a first,” Prompto replied, glad for the distraction.

                “What was it’s face even doing?”

                “Although I was busy trying to keep myself and Noct alive, I also noticed how bizarre the creature was. Almost like two separate beings residing in a single body. Its features were continually twisting and shifting. Very strange.” Sighing, Ignis relaxed in his seat, draping one arm over the door and dropping his other hand to the bottom of the steering wheel.

                “Wonder if this magic, whatever it is, will wear off naturally like any of the other weird conditions we’ve gotten,” Noctis said, twisting his mouth to one side as he propped his chin in his hand.

                “You mean like the time Prompto got toaded and we didn’t have any Maiden’s Kiss?” chuckled Gladio.

                “Or the time you got petrified and the three of us literally could not move you, so we all had to wait around until you turned back,” Prompto countered.

                Gladio grinned. “Oh, and we can’t forget about the time a slactuar stuck you with a needle that made you see Noct as a _very_ friendly little cactuar.”

                Prompto’s jaw dropped as he twisted to face Noctis. “You _told_ them about that?”

                Noct smirked. “Sometimes you still call me Cactii in your sleep.”

                All color drained from Prompto’s face before flooding back into his cheeks. “What?” he squeaked in Gladio’s gruff voice.

                From the front seat, Ignis’ shoulders shook with silent laughter.

                “Cactii? Not very creative, Prompto,” Gladio teased.

                Prompto’s jaw dropped. “I was _drugged_ and _hallucinating_!”

                The smirk transformed into a grin. “Even though it was weird. Like, _really_ weird, it was also kinda cute.”

                “How ‘bout we never talk about that again?”

                Seeing the embarrassed distress on Prompto’s face made Noct want to hug him. Wrap his arms around that big frame and cuddle him until he was convinced Noct was sorry for teasing him.

                Wait.

                Big frame? Why was that thought so natural? Like it was what he always did, holding a man so much bigger than himself. That’s something _Ignis_ did, not him. Prompto was small, easy to put his arms around. Prompto was cute, affectionate and cuddly, not huge, power oozing from every pore, possessive…sexy.

                Noctis’ eyes shot wide. No. That was not his thought. That was not him, _never_ him.

                “Uh, Noct? You okay, buddy? You’re kinda green.”

                “No. I’m not okay. At all.”

                Gladio turned in his seat. “What’s wrong?”

                “Ignis, your body is affecting my thoughts.”

                The driver sighed. “I noticed this as well.”

                Prompto and Gladio frowned. “What’s that mean?” Gladio asked, gaze flicking between the men.

                Swallowing hard, Ignis inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Gladio, since this morning, have you found yourself thinking it may be okay to kiss me in this body, or perhaps my actions have been more endearing than you may have thought?”

                “I mean, yeah? But I just figured my perspective is a little skewed because it’s _you_ in there.”

                “Perhaps that is the cause, or perhaps your attraction is being affected by your body’s attraction,” Ignis replied.

                “I don’t get it,” Prompto said, eyes darting from Noctis to Ignis.

                Heat flushed Ignis’ cheeks. “I had no reaction to your gaze—normally Gladio’s gaze—earlier, but seeing Gladio do things in your body makes my heart flutter,” he admitted.

                Prompto slumped. “Oh.”

                “This isn’t good, guys.”

                “No shit,” Gladio growled. The anger wasn’t quite as apparent in Prompto’s higher voice.

                Prompto’s stomach dropped and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You guys know I don’t swear like this often, but if any situation calls for it, it’s this one. If we don’t fix this soon, we’re fucked.”

                Noctis couldn’t have said it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read this fic to find out who Cactii REALLY is. http://archiveofourown.org/works/10334075


	5. Myth and Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay in this chapter. Due in part to a sudden desire to write something else, and two weeks away from the computer because of health problems resulted in the gap, but I'm BACK! So I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

                “And here I thought I’d seen it all,” Dave commented, expression blank as his eyes moved from one man to the next.

                “I’m sure this is new for all of us,” Ignis replied, crossing his arms.

                “So, did you find anything?” Noctis asked with a sigh, trying to prevent more staring.

                The man’s eyebrows slid upward as he turned his attention to Noctis. Ever the professional, it only took him a few seconds to adjust his brain. “Nothin’ official, I’m afraid. Did as much diggin’ as I could and found one lone, forgotten myth about a daemon called Tuudoh.”

                “Two—what now?” Prompto’s brows twitched into a frown before sliding up into his hairline.

                “Tuudoh. I never gave the story much thought, to be honest. Figured it to be a load of nonsense.”

                “Well, what is it? Spit it out,” grumbled Noctis, fixing his glasses yet again. Why were the damned things so obnoxious?

                Ignis nudged the impatient prince. Noctis narrowed his eyes at him.

                “It can’t be any weirder than what we’re already dealing with,” Gladio said with a shrug.

                “I s’pose that’s true. Well, it’s an old story, so I’m not sure how much of the facts made it through.” Dave waved them over to the small outdoor eating area shared by the Hunters at Meldacio. He beckoned for them to sit before doing the same. “It dates back to before the war. There was this couple, a man and woman who were a formidable duo. Mercenaries called in by all manner of folk who needed things done for ‘em. No job too big or too small. The small jobs, ones for poorer folk, were done out of the kindness of their hearts. The big jobs, messy tasks often involving murder or assassinations, were charged accordingly. They worked together like nobodies’ business, coordinated and silent, never having to voice their tactics.

                “One day something went wrong. Don’t know what, stories don’t say. Things fell apart for the pair; jobs went wrong, attacks became sloppy, they were no longer in sync.

                “Anyway, they were charged with taking down some nasty beastie. Something with magic no one had seen before or since. Whoever hired them knew it was a bad idea, likely doing it to lure them into a trap and have them killed. They weren’t very useful anymore, after all.

                “This monster, whatever it was, attacked them mercilessly. The longer they fought, the sloppier they got. Spent more time yellin’ at one another than fighting the creature. Wasn’t long before they got laid out.”

                Prompto was practically bouncing in his seat, behaving like a giant, eager puppy. “So, what happened? Were they killed?”

                “Not in the way a daemon would kill the likes of us,” Dave answered. “This _thing_ , whatever it was, killed their bodies, but twisted their spirits into the daemon known as Tuudoh.”

                Scowling, Ignis stared down at the table. “Did the story described Tuudoh?”

                “Huge monstrosity that looks like two people fighting over one body.”

                Lifting his head, Ignis looked to each of his companions. “I think it’s safe to say we had an unfortunate encounter with Tuudoh.”

                “I think so. What can we do to fix this?” Gladio now asked, giving Dave an unintentionally pleading glance. He was finding Prompto’s face didn’t always do the things he wanted it to do.

                “That’s something you boys are gonna have to learn on yer own. Like I said, this story is old and inaccurate. Any idea what got you into this in the first place?”

                “Noct rushing head-long into a fight like an idiot,” Gladio grumbled, crossing his arms and sagging in his seat.

                “He was only trying to blow off some steam because you guys were being jerks,” Prompto interjected, folding one leg beneath him and holding onto his ankle.

                “He was being foolish, and knows it,” Ignis replied without moving.

                “How was I supposed to know that thing would be any different than the hundreds of other daemons we’ve killed?” Noctis mumbled, slouching low in his seat as a pout settled on his lips.

                “I don’t know, how about using your brain?” snapped Gladio.

                Dave held up his hand. “Okay, I think I’ve got the picture. Also gives me an idea how you can potentially fix this.”

                “Please, enlighten us,” Gladio muttered.

                “How long you been at one another’s throats like this?” the man asked, eyes flicking around the table.

                “Too long,” sighed Prompto.

                Ignis’ brow twitched. “You believe the tension between us has something to do with this?”

                “Think about the story I told you. That’s all I’ve got right now. Come find me when you think you’ve got the solution. Good luck.” Shaking his head, Dave excused himself.

                Noct’s jaw dropped and he gaped at the Hunter’s retreating back. “What the hell?”

                “You’ve got any idea what he’s talkin’ about Ig’?” Gladio asked, sitting up straight and eyeing the man.

                “Tuudoh was created when the spirits of two people combined. People who formerly worked well together, but had some sort of falling out. When they were forced into one body, all of that history, all of that contempt, formed a powerful daemon with magic beyond our comprehension.”

                “Yeah? And?” prompted Noctis.

                “Think about it, Highness. We are four. Four who worked well together and have been doing nothing but arguing. We couldn’t attack Tuudoh no matter what we tried because we weren’t in tune with one another.”

                “So, we’ve got to learn to get along again?” sighed Gladio, rubbing a hand over his face.

                “That is what I have surmised, yes.”

                “Right. So how are we gonna do that? Pretty sure talking just leads to more problems for us,” Noct told them, kicking at a stone near the leg of the table.

                “We have to do something because we can’t stay like this,” sighed Prompto, letting his chin drop to his chest.

                “No shit.” Gladio pushed himself to his feet and stretched.

                Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ignis stood as well. “I’ll see if I can bring any other information to light. For now, perhaps it would be best to give each other some space. Cool our heads, as it were.”

                “Fine by me. C’mon, Prom, let’s go for a walk.”

                “Not exactly what I mean when I said _give each other space_ ,” Ignis grumbled.

                “Hey, it’s you two I’ve got problems with. Not him.” He reached out to grab Prompto’s arm before Ignis stopped him.

                “Have you already forgotten our no touching policy?”

                With a heavy sigh, Noct dropped his hand.

                Prompto shot him an apologetic glance before walking a few paces ahead. Noct caught up with him, walking close, but not close enough for their arms to touch.

                “This sucks,” complained Prompto, crossing his arms, and staring at the ground.

                “Dude, tell me about it. It’s really hard to keep myself from doing all the stuff I just naturally do, y’know?”

                “Yeah, I mean all this no touching stuff sucks, too. But I mean, like, why are we at one another’s throats like this? Usually we get along so well.”

                “It’s ‘cause we haven’t had a break, Prom. We’re either in the car or in the tent. Even we get tired of each other under those conditions.”

                Prompto turned to blink down at Noctis. “I’ve never gotten tired of you.”

                Noctis frowned for a moment before realization kicked in. “Oh! No, that’s not what I meant, Prom. I meant all of us, not you and me.”

                A tint of color washed over Prompto’s cheeks. “Oh. Sorry.”

                “Don’t apologize. It’s not like this is your fault.”

                “It’s just as much mine as it is everyone else’s. I almost told Iggy his skewers were over salted.”

                The admission startled a laugh out of Noctis. “Wow, hitting below the belt, man.”

                “Hey, don’t laugh!” Prompto scolded, though he was chuckling as well. “Uh, Noct? C’n I ask you something?”

                “Sure. Anything you want.”

                Prompto stopped walking and turned to look back at the long stretch of road that served as the Hunter HQ. “Even if we never figure this out, even if we stay like this, me as Gladio, you as Ignis…will you…will you still love me?”

                The world seemed to stop as Noctis stared at Prompto. Drawing a breath was difficult, and taking in that pleading, wounded dog expression was harder yet. Screw the no touching rule! Noctis tugged on Prompto’s bicep, pulling him into the shadow of fencing and rock at the entrance of Meldacio. Though he couldn’t draw the man up against his chest like usual, he still pulled him into a hug. He propped his head against the bigger man’s chest and sighed into his tank top.

                “That’s a stupid question,” he muttered as Prompto enveloped him with massive arms. Being wrapped up in this strength was new and amazing, yet comforting and familiar. Either way, it felt nice. Noctis closed his eyes.

                “Why’s it stupid?” Prompto asked as he leaned against the rock behind him, dragging Noct against his chest and cuddling him.

                “Because,” Noct muttered, breathing out, “there is no way, after everything we’ve been through, everything it took to get you, I’d stop loving you for a reason like this.”

                Prompto felt tears burn his eyes as Noctis leaned heavily against him. “How can you be so sure about that?”

                “I’m sure because no matter what you look like, you’re still you. You’re my Prompto. My Prompto, who is so cute he even manages to make Gladio adorable.”

                Leaning back slightly, Prompto glanced down at Noctis. There was no smile in his voice, no amusement on his face at all. But Prompto still wasn’t sure. “Is that you talking, or Ignis’ body?”

                “Does it really matter at this point? Just be sure that I will always love you no matter what. Understand?” Noctis reached up, sliding his arms around Prompto’s neck.

                Prompto wanted to understand, but he still felt knots of anxiety in his belly. Was this him, or Gladio feeling this way? His own thoughts were so confused with Gladio’s built-in reactions. He thought he was done feeling so uncertain once he had Noctis.

                Hugging the man tight, Prompto leaned down and kissed him without thought. At first, it felt wrong; these were not his lips on Noctis’. But once he turned his head ever so slightly, he found the spot where Ignis and Gladio’s lips fit together. It felt right again, amazing even. Like this was his first kiss all over again. This was a different kind of perfect, but perfect none-the-less.

                “Your beard is scratchy,” Noctis moaned when they finally broke apart.

                “Yeah? Think I should try and grow one, then?” Prompto asked with a smirk.

                “Nah. It wouldn’t suit you.”

                “No? Not even a little goatee?” The smirk grew into a grin.

                “Eww, no! Definitely not!” Noctis laughed, hugging onto Gladio again. Prompto. He was hugging Prompto! Oh shit, this was getting bad.

                Prompto’s grin softened and he reached up, sliding the glasses from Noctis’ face. “Your eyes are prettier without these in the way.”

                Something fluttered in Noct’s belly and he snatched the glasses back, stepping away from Prompto. Shoving the glasses back on, he exchanged a wide-eyed stare with the other man.

                “What? What did I do?”

                “N-nothing,” Noctis mumbled, turning away.

                Frowning, Prompto reached out toward Noctis. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you.”

                Noctis flinched away. “No, you didn’t do anything. It’s just…we’re getting confused. You said _my eyes_ when it should be Iggy’s eyes. None of this is mine. And none of that is yours.”

                Hurt flashed through Prompto’s eyes. “Oh, okay. Yeah, no, I totally understand. I mean, we don’t have that no touching rule for no reason.”

                Noctis scrubbed a hand through his hair, sending Ignis’ perfectly arranged coif into disarray. “This sucks!”

                “Yeah, it does.”

                “So, what do we do now?”

                Prompto quirked a brow. “You’re asking me?”

                Noctis flopped down in the tall grass, pouting. “Not much we _can_ do. We can train, but I think Gladio is the better bet to teach you how to use that sword. And you’re the only one who can train him with the guns.”

                “You’re probably right.” Prompto sat down next to Noctis. “So…what’s it like being Iggy?”

                “Frankly? It sucks. He’s gangly. He moves funny. His hair is a pain. His glasses are a pain. His clothes are uncomfortable. The only good thing is he doesn’t have my old injuries, so no limp. What about being Gladio?”

                Prompto chuckled. “You try gaining this much height all at once. I’m not gonna say it’s fun, but it isn’t quite as bad as you make it seem. It’s kinda nice seeing what it’s like to be tall, muscular, and attractive for once.”

                Scowling, Noct turned and flicked Prompto between the eyes.

                “Ow! What the heck?”

                “You’re tall enough, muscular enough, and more attractive than anyone else on Eos,” Noctis grumbled, blushing.

                “That opinion doesn’t count, coming from you.”

                “It should count _more_! Who cares what anyone else thinks? I think you’re perfect, Prompto.”

                Prompto was blushing now as well. “Where were you when I was a fat, unpopular elementary school kid?”

                “Waiting for you to come talk to me.”

                Jaw dropping, Prompto turned and slugged Noctis in the shoulder.

                “What’re you trying to do? Break my arm?” Noctis demanded with a wince, rubbing his bicep furiously.

                “Sorry! Forgot my new strength again.”

                “Reign it in, big guy.”

                Prompto scoffed. “Sorry.”


	6. Baby Steps

                “You’re staring again,” Ignis pointed out as he glowered at the single ancient book Dave managed to find for him.

                “You like it when I stare,” Gladio countered, smirking.

                “That hardly makes it any less distracting.” Sighing, Ignis lifted his head. “Besides, you’re not staring at me, you’re staring at Noctis.”

                Gladio blew a raspberry. “It’s still you. No one else gets this adorable little crease between their brows when they concentrate like you do.” Winking, Gladio reached out and poked Ignis between the eyes.

                “Cut that out. Need I remind you of the no touching rule?” Ignis grumbled, sweeping Noctis’ bangs aside for the hundredth time.

                “Relax, Ig. It was just a poke.”

                “Nevertheless, please refrain. I knew how difficult that is.” Brow marred by a deep scowl, Ignis sat up and crossed his arms. “How does he even function when he can’t see what’s in front of him through this hair?”

                Gladio’s face brightened with a grin and he sat up straight. “Wait right there. I’ve got just the thing!” Bounding out of his chair with more speed than he usually had, Gladio jogged to where they parked the car. Opening the trunk, he rifled around in their scant luggage for a few seconds before finding what he was searching for. Ignis could see his teeth-baring grin from here as he hid something in his vest, stood up, and closed the trunk.

                “I will say, your emotions are much more exaggerated on Prompto’s face,” Ignis commented with a quirked brow when Gladio returned.

                “Didn’t think my emotions were ever unclear,” Gladio replied with a shrug, standing before Ignis.

                “That is not what I said. What are you doing?”

                “Close your eyes.”

                Ignis sighed. “I don’t have time for games, Gladio.”

                “C’mon. Please?”

                Shrugging, Ignis closed his eyes. “Fine, but please keep the touching to a minimum.”

                “Yeah, yeah.”

                Ignis listened to the humor in the man’s voice and tried not to roll his eyes. Something gently touched the sides of his head and slid back into his hair. Rough, slender fingers grazed his cheeks as the thing was properly positioned under his drooping bangs. Gladio tilted the object and pushed it back, up on top of his head, settling it in place.

                “There! That should be better.”

                “A hairband, Gladio? Really?” The corner of his mouth curved.

                Spreading his hands wide, Gladio shrugged. “Hey, if it works, it works, right?”

                A shorter strand of hair sprung free from the band. “I suppose that’s true. Why do you have this, anyway?”

                “Oh, it’s not mine. I saw Prompto using it a couple times to wash his face in the morning.”

                “Hopefully he won’t mind me using it. Tomorrow I’ll have a better solution.” Adjusting the hairband, Ignis turned back to the book.

                “What, no _thank you_?” Gladio grumbled, pouting.

                Ignis smirked. “Thank you, Gladio. I appreciate it.”

                Satisfied, Gladio dropped back into his chair and resumed his staring. “That’s a cute look for you,” he said after a moment.

                “Not me, remember?”

                Gladio rolled his eyes and leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “Look, I don’t care what you say. Right now, you are Ignis. I don’t see Noct when I look at you, I see Ignis Scientia. You still have the same mannerisms, the same attitude, the same speech pattern. For all intents and purposes, you are _you_.”

                “While that may be, I…”

                “See? Even you can’t give me a valid excuse. You are _my_ Iggy, no matter what form you happen to have.”

                Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ignis let out a hefty sigh. “We put rules in place for a reason, Gladio.”

                “Yeah, I know. But honestly, those reasons are kinda dumb.”

                Brow furrowed deeply, Ignis glared across the small table at Gladio. “How so? Will you be saying that if you somehow come away from this with a residual attraction to Noctis?”

                “He’s not my type, Iggy. If he were, you and I wouldn’t be together.”

                “Type or no, it may happen. So please, try and keep your hands to yourself. It’s difficult for me, too.”

                Gladio studied the man’s face for a moment. “Jealousy seems beneath you, Ignis.”

                A deep blush settled on his cheeks. “Why would you say that?”

                Crossing his legs, Gladio propped an elbow on the table and gave a half shrug. “You’re too smart to get jealous.”

                “Emotions and intelligence have nothing to do with one another. I am just as capable of jealousy as you. Perhaps more so given who I am and who you are.”

                Gladio’s brow twitched. “What’s that mean?”

                Sighing heavily, Ignis leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “You, Gladiolus Amicitia, are a flirt. I’ve yet to decide if it’s intentional or not, but nearly every woman, and more than a few men, you’ve spoken to go starry-eyed. You’re very good at making people feel like they’re the center of the universe when you converse with them. Now, of course I’m not telling you to change or to stop because even if you _are_ doing it on purpose, it makes people happy. And happiness is in limited supply these days. You are very friendly, Gladio, and…” Ignis trailed off with yet another sigh. “I’m babbling now. How unbecoming.”

                “No, no!” Gladio sat up straight, extending one arm across the table. “I like hearing this. You’re always so quiet about stuff like this, so it’s a nice change hearing you voice it.”

                Ignis grumbled low in his throat. He turned away from Gladio, studying the scrub grass and rocks at his feet. “Now isn’t a good time to be discussing the intricacies of our relationship. Let me just say, I am quite capable of jealousy, I just have the good sense not to make it obvious.”

                Gladio seemed to deflate against the table. “Okay, okay. I’ll let it go for now. I’m gonna go find Prompto so we can do a little training. Find something good for us, babe.” Lightly smacking the table, Gladio sprung to his feet.

                “I shall do my utmost.”

                Walking past the man, Gladio offered a smile and couldn’t resist brushing his fingers across the back of Ignis’ hand on his way by. A sigh followed him.

                Satisfied with the note of frustration he heard, Gladio left Ignis to pour over his dusty old book. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he wandered in the direction he saw Noctis and Prompto go earlier.

                It was strange, walking through a populated place and not having anyone try and strike up a conversation with him. Sure, people acknowledged him, some even smiled, but it wasn’t the same. He had no idea Prompto was so…maybe unpopular wasn’t the right word. The kid wasn’t bad looking, he was even kinda funny. Scrappy was a good descriptor, too. He was a good person, straight through. Then again, Gladio recalled how shy Prompto had been when they first met. He had opened up to them easily enough, but that didn’t mean he was like that with everyone.

                Frowning, Gladio shook his head and rounded the fence at the entrance of Meldacio. It took him a second to spot the pair. Sitting shoulder to shoulder on the ground, the overgrown grass did a fair job of hiding them. The nook they found for themselves was quiet and semi-private, yet still in the pool of light cast by the giant stadium lights used to keep daemons at bay. It was a nice little spot; Gladio would have to keep it in mind for next time they came out this way.

                “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he announced as he strolled over to them.

                “Not really. What’s up, Gladio?” Noctis greeted, not moving from where he sat, knees bent, and arms propped on top.

                “Iggy find anything yet?” Prompto added.

                “Nah, not yet,” Gladio replied, gazing out at the road.

                Noctis scoffed. “You were probably bugging him, weren’t you?”

                Gladio shrugged, smirking. “Maybe a little bit. But I’ve left him to it for now. If anyone can dig something up for us, it’ll be Iggy.”

                “So, you came to irritate us instead?”

                Rolling his eyes, Gladio kicked the toe of Noctis’ boot. “Pretty sure you’re the irritating one, Prince Charmless,” he retorted, but there was no heat in his voice. “I came to try and do something proactive while Ignis does his research. I need to borrow Prompto.”

                “Training?” Prompto asked, resigned.

                “Training.”

                Pushing himself to his feet, Prompto sighed. “Shouldn’t be too hard learning to swing a sword, right?”

                “Just think of your short sword training with Cor, only it’s bigger and weighs the same as you,” Noctis told him.

                “I’m hoping we can use muscle memory to make this easier,” Gladio said, stretching his arms. “These bodies are used to the weapons, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

                “Muscle memory may help a little, but you still gotta be able to aim a gun,” replied Prompto.

                “I’m sure I can manage, pipsqueak.”

                Prompto grinned. “It’s not as easy as I make it look.”

                “And neither is swinging that sword.”

                Noctis found himself smirking at the good-natured ribbing. It was nice to see their playful, competitive behavior again. He liked seeing Prompto smile, no matter the reason.

                Watching the pair summon their new-to-them weapons, Noctis slowly rose to his feet. He saw the surprise on Prompto’s face when he lifted the giant sword with little effort and chuckled to himself.

                “Where ya goin’, Noct?” Prompto asked when he caught Noctis strolling toward the open gate. Gladio focused his attention on him as well.

                “To have a much-needed shower. Have fun.” Giving them a two-fingered wave, Noctis left them to their business. Stretching, he inhaled a rib-stretching breath and wandered back to the caravan. It was no hotel, but it was miles better than another night in the tent.

                Pausing on the steps up to the door of the caravan, Noctis tilted his head in thought. He realized for the first time in days he wasn’t feeling too bad. He was about to take care of the dirt and battle grime clinging to him, and his mood was light despite the dire problem they were in. Something told him this was supposed to be a test of some kind. A learning experience.

                Noctis let himself into the caravan and shucked his clothes. Taking a moment to admire Ignis’ lithe muscle, he stepped into the tiny shower. It was so much more cramped now that he was taller. And wider.

                Noct snorted as the lukewarm water poured over his head. Prompto trying to shower later would be fun to witness. Okay, so this might not be _all_ bad. And it _was_ a learning experience. He recalled Gladio’s words about getting along again. By living as one another, they could experience first hand all those nit-picky problems they complained about. Maybe learn to tolerate one another better.

                A tap on the door made Noctis jump and smack into the wall of the shower.

                “Noct, I hope you don’t plan on using all of the water!” Ignis called from the other side.

                Shutting off the water, Noct opened the door and stepped out into the cool air of the caravan.

                “Towel, Highness,” sighed Ignis, handing over the fluffy white article.

                “Ashamed of your own nakedness?” laughed Noctis, accepting the towel and wrapping it around his hips. Water dripped consistently from the ends of his flat hair, running down his neck, back, and chest.

                Clicking his tongue, Ignis rolled his eyes. “Hardly. I’d rather not have my body returned to me with a cold. Dry your, or rather _my_ hair, will you please?” Dropping a second towel on top of Noctis’ head, Ignis started picking up the dirty clothes littering the floor.

                “Hey, I’ll get that.”

                Ignis paused, hand hovering over a sock.

                “Don’t look at me like that, Specs. You need a shower, too. Better hop in before the water hogs get here. I’ll clean up.”

                As Ignis straightened up, suspicion painted his features. “Are you sure, Highness?”

                Noctis just waved at him. Still dripping water, he set to picking up the clothes he dropped everywhere.

                “Thank you…Noctis.”

                As the shower door closed, Noctis wasn’t sure if the light flutter in his chest was a figment of his imagination or not.


	7. Sleep on it

                “You gotta take them out before bed.”

                “I’m not sticking my fingers in my eyes.”

                “Gladio, you gotta! You can’t sleep with contacts in.”

                “Why the hell do you wear them, anyway? Why can’t you just stick with glasses like Iggy?” Gladio’s shoulders fell and his lip protruded in a pout.

                “Because they cramp my style, man. C’mon, you want me to take ‘em out for you?”

                Gladio leaned back, flicking a nervous glance at Ignis. “No offense, Prompto, but you’re already kinda clumsy in your own body. I don’t really trust you not to gouge my eye out. And you don’t want your body back half blind, do you?”

                Prompto flopped onto his back on the thin, lumpy mattress. He let out a groan and eyed Ignis. “Help me out here, dude.”

                “I can always take them out if you’d rather?” Ignis suggested, leaning forward and propping an elbow on his knee.

                “I would much rather,” sighed Gladio, though he didn’t sound thrilled with the prospect.

                “Not like I do it daily or anything,” grumbled Prompto, folding his arms behind his head.

                Smirking, Noctis reached over and patted the man’s belly. “Relax, buddy.”

                Ignis smiled as he got up and crossed the small space to where Gladio sat. He moved between the man’s legs and had him look up. With careful, deft fingers, Ignis removed the contact lenses and put them in the little case Prompto provided.

                “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Ignis asked, patting Gladio’s cheek.

                Off to the side, Noctis stuck his tongue out and pretended to gag. Prompto grinned.

                “Very mature, boys,” Ignis sighed, rolling his eyes. Giving Gladio’s face another caress, he returned to his seat.

                Sitting up, Prompto watched Gladio blink rapidly and rub his eyes. “Oh, it’s not _that_ bad,” he scolded.

                “Nothing’s even blurry with them out,” Gladio grumbled, glaring at the man. “Why do you wear those damned things?”

                “Can’t aim a gun if you can’t see the target,” he replied.

                “I’m not putting them back in tomorrow.”

                “You have to! I have an image to maintain, dude.”

                “Your glasses are fine.”

                Prompto tried to break out his puppy dog eyes, but it wasn’t quite as convincing on Gladio’s face. “Dude, it won’t kill you to do this one thing for me.”

                Gladio shrugged. “I just don’t see what the big deal is.”

                “I haven’t worn my glasses in public since before high school. It’s important to me.” Folding his hands in his lap, he lowered his eyes.

                Noctis and Ignis watched silently, waiting to see how Gladio would answer.

                Brows drawn together, Gladio groaned low in his throat and thumped his head against the wall behind him. “Fine! Fine, I’ll wear ‘em.”

                “Thank you. I’ll help you put them in in the morning.” Relief was clear in Prompto’s entire body, even if his smile didn’t immediately return.

                “Well, not that we’ve settled that, and cleaned up the mess Prompto made attempting to shower, I think we should discuss our main problem,” Ignis told the others, hooking one leg over the other and leaning his elbow on the small table next to him.

                “Did you find anything different from what Dave told us?” Noctis asked, pulling his feet up onto the bed to sit cross-legged.

                “Unfortunately, no, but I have put thought into the matter.”

                Gladio huffed out a breath, his lips curving in a half-smile. “Well, your thoughts have never steered us wrong before. Whatcha got?”

                “The first, and quite likely last, time Tuudoh was seen happened to be shortly after its creation. This tells me it is tied to a very specific kind of discord because there is no chance other duos or groups haven’t gone their separate ways in the last forty or so years since it came into being.”

                “We could try asking the Marshall?” Prompto interrupted, hope filling his eyes.

                “I already thought of that, actually. I sent him a message earlier to no avail.”

                “He didn’t have _anything_ to say?” Noctis questioned.

                “I’m afraid I never received an answer at all. Nor would he pick up when I phoned. No matter, I’m sure we can work this out on our own. As I was saying, there have probably been many teams who have argued and split up, yet there is no record of our daemon. I believe it can sense something, shall we say, _special_.”

                “Special,” Gladio repeated with a quirked brow.

                “I assume it only attacks those it considers a viable threat. However, in our current state, with our current argumentative headspace, we are no threat. Tuudoh sensed our power as a group, felt what we are capable of, and put this curse on us to eliminate the threat. Or the spirits living inside it sensed we, like them, work for the people, and it couldn’t handle the connection to its former life.”

                “So, it’s a cranky kid holding a grudge,” Noctis muttered, shaking his head.

                “Essentially, yes. Tuudoh is still in its infancy as far as other daemons are concerned. It seems to work more on instinct than some of the others we’ve had the misfortune of dealing with.”

                While Noctis and Prompto nodded their understanding, Gladio frowned.

                “How do you know that? I had a hard enough time keeping an eye on myself and Noct, never mind studying that thing,” he said.

                “It’s my job to observe, take in all available information, and form a plan. I am quite capable of doing so on the fly,” Ignis answered.

                “Yeah, I know that, but—”

                “No _but_. I will do my job no matter my mood.”

                Gladio raised his hand to waylay an argument. “Okay, okay. So, what are we going to do about this?”

                “We need to vanquish Tuudoh.”

                “Well, duh,” groaned Noctis, propping his chin in his hand.

                “How’re we going to summon it back?” Prompto asked. “Stand in a field and whistle?”

                “The sarcasm is unwarranted, Prompto.”

                “Sorry, but like, the question is valid. If we need to kill it, we have to find it again, first,” he reiterated.

                “I believe it will find us. As I said, at our best, we are a threat. It will want to eliminate us, but we won’t give it another chance.”

                Noctis stared at Ignis for a moment before groaning and letting his chin drop to his chest. “This is so dumb!” he complained. “The only reason we aren’t getting along is because of the cramped quarters we’ve had for _days_. It’s a passing thing. We’ve dealt with it before, and we’ll deal with it again.”

                Ignis made a small, vague gesture with one hand. “Maybe so, but perhaps this will teach us to deal with our petty disputes before they get out of hand. Even you must admit, we’ve gotten carried away this time.”

                “Okay, yeah. Fine. It’s pretty bad.”

                “But we’re getting along fine now?” Prompto glanced between Ignis and Noctis.

                Gladio got to his feet and stretched, able to do so completely in Prompto’s body. “Yeah, but the tension’s still there. At least we don’t stink anymore.”

                “And we have more room to sleep,” Noctis added.

                “Things will improve in time, as always, but I’m unsure how much time we have before this curse is irreversible.”

                The men fell silent for a long while, contemplating their situation.

                “Maybe this will wear off?” Prompto eventually muttered, peeking at Ignis from under his brows.

                “While there is still a small chance of that happening, it is becoming less and less likely,” Ignis replied with a small shake of his head.

                Sighing and scrubbing a hand through his hair, Noctis looked to his Advisor. “What do we do now, Specs? I’m at a loss this time.”

                “We go back to basics. Training routines in pairs and as a group. When we aren’t doing that, I feel it would be worth it to try and rekindle the bonds we share.”

                “Meaning what, exactly?” Gladio asked.

                Ignis shifted in his seat and blinked at Gladio like the answer was obvious. When the man only stared back, waiting, Ignis had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Enjoy our downtime. Play video games, go for runs, look through Prompto’s photos together. Things we enjoy doing.”

                Prompto nodded enthusiastically. “Makes sense.”

                Noctis tossed a quick glance at his boyfriend, frowning. “Sounds to me like we’re just twiddling our thumbs.”

                A low grumble of frustration vibrated in Ignis’ throat as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then what would _you_ suggest, Highness? Do you know of some formula or concoction to reverse this never-before-seen magic? Or perhaps you’d like to rush into danger again to fix this?”

                Leaning forward with a dark glower on his face, Noctis opened his mouth to spit some reply at the man when Gladio stepped between them. He held up his hands and looked from one man to the other.

                “Calm down, guys. This is exactly what we’re trying to avoid, remember? Maybe we should just go to bed and start fresh in the morning.”

                Taking a slow, deep breath, Ignis closed his eyes for a moment. “That brings me to another matter,” he said as he opened his eyes again.

                “Huh?” Noctis sat up straight, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I am _not_ sharing my bed with either of you.”

                “I’m siding with Noct on this one. We’re trying to lessen the tension, right?” Gladio shrugged, guilt and apology warring on his face.

                “I’m agreeing with them, too,” Prompto added. “I totally get why we have the rule, and that'll make it pointless, but there’s no reason we need to create more problems, right?”

                A twitch leaped through Ignis’ jaw as he clenched his teeth. “No one had a problem with that before,” he grumbled. “Fine! Let’s turn in for the night, then. Perhaps things will look brighter after a proper sleep.”


	8. Seeds

                _Noctis clamped both hands over his mouth to stifle a moan. He tried to keep still as well to prevent the bed frame from creaking, but the hand around his length felt too good. He rolled his hips against the hand, and a tiny whimper escaped through his fingers._

_“Shh, you need to stay quiet, remember? They’re right over there and could wake up at any tiny noise.” Sliding down to the base of his cock, the fingers squeezed tightly._

_“Please!” he begged, voice muffled behind his hands. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and his toes curled in the bedding. All of his muscles quivered with overuse and he couldn’t form a complete, coherent thought. This teasing had been going on for hours, ever since they were certain the other two were sleeping._

_A low chuckle rumbled in the dark, sounding too loud in the shared space._

_Fingers slipped back inside, having only been gone a moment. His body craved something larger after more than an hour of those fingers moving in and out, stretching him, softening the tight muscle._

_“Relax.”_

Can’t _, thought Noctis, clenching around the fingers. His hips were moving on their own, desperate to find some sort of release after being denied for so long._

_“C’mon, now. Move your hands. No cheating.”_

_Though he knew he would make noise and wake the others, he let his hands fall away from his mouth. He hoped obeying the rules meant he would be allowed to come soon._

_The hand squeezing the base of his dripping, neglected cock relented slightly, but not enough to allow him what he so desperately wanted. The fingers inside him did not let up at all, however. They moved harder, curling inside, stroking and rubbing his prostate relentlessly._

_Weak, exhausted, frustrated, every nerve ending on fire, Noctis bit down hard enough on his bottom lip to break the skin. He wouldn’t cry, or cry out. He wasn’t going to break after this long. A little teasing would_ not _be his undoing, dammit!_

_“Oh, seeing you struggle is adorable. It’s getting hard to resist you.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“Those tears are something else. Never thought crying would turn me on so hard.”_

_Noctis grit his teeth. “I said shut up!”_

_“Quiet,” chuckled Gladio._

_The taste of copper filled Noctis’ mouth when he swiped his tongue across the cut on his lip. He could only hear his heart thumping in his chest as the man above him finally dissolved into clarity. Gladio, his molten brown eyes foggy with lust, his brow creased in concentration, his bare, tattooed body glistening with sweat. Gladio, his Shield. Gladio, not even close to the man he was in love with._

_“You’re gonna cum for me, and they’ll never know it happened right under their noses,” he teased, his growly voice rumbling through Noctis’ entire body._

_Stomach flip-flopping in giddy pleasure, Noct only spared the barest thought for how little he wanted to fight this. No one would find out if he stayed quiet, right?_

Early morning sunlight streamed in through the thin curtain covering the window overlooking the bed. Though it wasn’t what woke Noctis from his sleep. A dream, vivid and shameful filled his mind, paying no heed to his sleep-fogged thoughts. He threw an arm over his heated face, holding back tears of embarrassment he hadn’t felt in years. His sleep pants felt damp, his heart still hadn’t calmed down, and he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

                He wanted some clean clothes and at _least_ two cans of Ebony. And to get away from the others as soon as possible.

                Moving away from Prompto as quietly and gently as he could, he slipped out of bed. Maneuvering around Gladio and Ignis, he grabbed his glasses and some clean clothes and closed himself in the closet-sized bathroom. Well, bathroom was a generous term, since it was really just a wet-room that housed the toilet and shower. Not exactly five-star accommodations.

                Dropping everything between his feet, Noctis sat down on the toilet lid and exhaled long and slow. He cursed Ignis for always being up early, because now he was wide awake at the crack of dawn, and able to fully focus on a dream he’d rather forget. Small miracles it wasn’t a full-blown wet dream.

                “Oh Gods,” Noctis moaned under his breath. How could he have a sex dream involving a man who was basically his big brother, while in a body that wasn’t his own?

                His stomach clenched painfully. He needed to put space between himself and the others, fast. He didn’t know if he could ever face them again. Too many questions, too many buried thoughts to deal with.

                Changing quickly, Noctis balled up the soiled pants and stuffed them deep in the laundry bag before leaving the caravan. Head down, he crossed the road to where the Regalia was parked without acknowledging anyone he passed. First things first, he needed coffee. His body was craving it with such ferocity it made him realize why Ignis got so bent out of shape when they began running low.

                Pulling a can of Ebony from the trunk, Noctis downed half of the can without even tasting the beverage. Eyes losing focus as he stared at the can, he let his mind work on finding a good distraction. Normally he would sleep, but that was out of the question in Ignis’ body. He could find some work to do for the Hunters, but facing people was a distasteful thought right now. He could go for a run. _That_ sounded like an amazing plan.

                Searching through the mess of the trunk, Noctis found Ignis’ rarely-worn running shoes, a pair of sweatpants, and his tangled, knotted earbuds. He changed quickly behind the car, and by the time he untangled his earbuds, his need for a physical outlet skyrocketed. Not only did he need to burn off leftover arousal, but now anger as well.

                Shoving his earbuds in and cranking his music, Noctis set off toward the tunnel at the far end of Meldacio. He’d have to do a few laps of this place before he could be any semblance of normal.

***

                Stretching as much as space would allow, Prompto let out a groan and a sigh. He rolled onto his side, expecting to drape himself over Noctis, but was only met with cold sheets. Cracking his eyes open, he did a quick scan of the length of the caravan and frowned. Noctis was never the first one up. Either he had a nightmare so bad he couldn’t go back to sleep, or Ignis’ body influenced him to be an early riser. Since Ignis was still fast asleep, he assumed it was the latter. Just like the ache in his muscles, the need to stretch and move, was typical of Gladio’s body. Probably.

                Scrubbing a hand over his face, Prompto sat up, yawning widely and scratching his belly. His stomach grumbled noisily, making sure he knew he needed food. Time to get dressed, look for Noct, then get something to eat.

                Kicking off the blanket, Prompto turned to sit on the edge of the bed. He grabbed the tank top and pants he tossed to the floor before going to sleep last night, dressed, and stood. Making his way to the door, he tried not to step on the others with Gladio’s massive feet. Shoving said feet into his boots, he stepped out into the crisp morning air.

                Raising his arms above his head, Prompto indulged in a satisfying, full body stretch. His muscles quivered with the pleasure of being used after being sedentary all night. Smiling, he dropped his arms and rolled his shoulders, looking around to let his eyes fully adjust to the bright morning sunlight. Noticing the trunk of the Regalia stood open, he quirked a brow. Noct must have gone in there for something, then left it open by accident. He closed it before retrieving a hair tie from the small stash of items Noct and Gladio kept in the back seat.

                Pulling his hair up, Prompto fixed the stylishly messy waves in a sad excuse for a bun and looked around for his boyfriend. The man wasn’t hard to spot; he was the only one running. It wasn’t just a run for exercise, either. Noctis looked like he was actively trying to run away from something.

                Noct lifted his head, catching Prompto’s eye as he approached.

                Smiling, Prompto waved.

                Quickly averting his gaze, Noctis sprinted past Prompto.

                Frowning, his jaw dropped as he stared after Noctis. “What the hell, dude?” Prompto called, arms wide.

                “Won’t do you any good,” a woman commented as she walked past. “He’s been at it an hour. Hasn’t even stopped for a drink.”

                “Uh, thanks.” Scowling, Prompto watched Noct cross the road and start back the other way. Sweat glued his hair to his temples and neck, dampened his shirt, and shone on his face. Exhaustion dragged on his features, but he showed no sign of letting up.

                Forgetting his rumbling stomach for now, Prompto leaned against the car, crossed his arms, and waited for Noctis to come back around. Completely ignoring him, Noctis aimed to run past again, but Prompto grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.

                “Let me go!” Noctis snarled, voice thick and coarse.

                “Not until you talk to me. What’s going on?”

                Scowling, Noctis yanked his earbuds out and glared at Prompto, not speaking.

                “What is it? Did I do something to annoy you?” Prompto now asked, hesitantly releasing the other man’s arm.

                The harsh expression on Noct’s face faltered. “N-no. No.”

                “But _something’s_ wrong. I mean, other than the obvious.”

                Noctis remained silent, save for his rough breathing.

                Sighing, Prompto leaned against the side of the car again, pulling Noctis between his legs. The man resisted, rigid under his hands as his nose wrinkled up. As soon as Prompto took his hands away, Noctis stepped back again.

                “Don’t touch me,” he mumbled.

                “Is this because of that rule again?”

                Noctis shook his head.

                “Uh, okay?” Crossing his arms, the crease between Prompto’s brows deepened. “You’re freaking me out, dude. What’s wrong?”

                “Nothing. I’m fine.”

                “You obviously aren’t, Noct! You’re a worse liar than me. Just talk to me, bud.”

                The expression crossing Noctis’ face screamed _I would rather have you shoot me in the face_. He shook his head. “M-m-maybe later, ‘kay? I just…not like this.” Brows quivering and eyes sparkling with emotion, Noctis turned and left Prompto at the car.

                “Noct?”

                The man didn’t even glance back.


	9. All About Perspective

                Gladio rolled over in his open sleeping bag, tossing his arm across Ignis. He woke when Prompto accidentally kicked him on the way out, but he didn’t bother getting up. Truthfully, he was waiting for Ignis to stir, which didn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon. The man slept like Noctis, which now that he thought about it, made sense.

                Chuckling to himself, Gladio decided he should probably get up now before the day progressed too much further. Stretching, he pressed his knuckles into his back as he arched his spine. Something popped, and he winced as he straightened up. The floor was not the most comfortable of places, but it was worth it to sleep next to Ignis.

                Squatting next to the sleeping man, Gladio poked his shoulder. “Hey.”

                No response beyond an adorable little snort.

                “C’mon, Iggy. Time to rise and shine,” he continued, patting the man’s cheek.

                Grumbling, Ignis scowled and swatted Gladio’s hand away. He snuggled deeper into his sleeping bag, part of his face disappearing inside.

                Hanging his head, Gladio found himself grinning. “Okay, while this is really cute, you should get up.”

                Though Ignis didn’t answer, a twitch of his brow showed he was awake and listening.

                “Geez, now I know how you feel trying to get Noct up in the morning,” sighed Gladio, shaking his head. Standing up, he stepped over Ignis’ sleeping bag and planted one foot to either side of his knees. Squatting over the man, he took hold of the sleeping bag and pulled. Ignis barely budged, but he turned his head down to hide a smirk.

                “Oh, right. Not as strong as I was,” grumbled Gladio, a tinge of pink dusting his cheeks. “Oh well, plan B will work.” Releasing the bag, his hand moved to the zipper on the side. Tugging it down nice and slow, he changed his squat to a straddle and leaned over Ignis’ partially obscured face.

                Ignis’ brow creased, and he tried to sink into himself.

                “Don’t care if this is Noct’s body, if you don’t get up Iggy, I’m gonna break the no touching rule in a big way.”

                Groaning, Ignis finally cracked his eyes open. “Fine. I’m up.”

                “There he is. Mornin’, babe.”

                “Why are you so chipper?” Ignis complained as he sat up.

                Gladio shrugged, sitting back on his heels. “Dunno. Just in a good mood, I guess.”

                Rolling his eyes, Ignis gave Gladio a shove, knocking him on his backside. “I slept solidly all night, yet I still feel exhausted.”

                “Welcome to Being Noctis.”

                Ignis yawned widely.

                “Want me to get you some Ebony?” Gladio asked, springing to his feet.

                “If you would be so kind, darling.”

                “Darling? You sure you’re awake?” laughed Gladio, leaning over to ruffle Ignis’ hair.

                “I’ll come up with a suitable pet name yet,” he sighed, wrinkling up his nose.

                “Keep working on it.” Grinning, Gladio left Ignis with a wink and went to retrieve the man’s coffee. Whistling to himself, he practically bounced as he crossed the road to the car. If being in Prompto’s body gave him this much energy, he wasn’t going to complain.

                “Get away from me!”

                “Noctis, wait!”

                Stopping mid-step, Gladio looked toward the yelling. A short distance up the road, Noctis was practically running away from a confused and hurt-looking Prompto.

                “Why can’t you just take the hint?”

                “What hint? Why are you so mad at me? What did I do?”

                Frustration marred Noctis’ face, but he didn’t answer.

                “It’s really hard to leave you alone when you’re so _clearly_ upset, Noct. Please, I just wanna help.”

                “There’s nothing to help. I—” Noctis looked up, eyes landing on Gladio. His face flushed dark red and he grit his teeth. Stopping abruptly, Prompto almost walked into him as he turned around. Eyes locked on his feet, he mumbled something to the man before him. He let whatever words he spoke sink in for a moment, turned, and made a bee-line for the caravan.

                Eyes wide, Gladio stared after Noctis. “What the hell was that about?” When Prompto didn’t give him so much as a grunt in response, Gladio turned his attention toward him. His stomach hit the floor before leaping into his throat at the expression Prompto presented him with. It couldn’t be described as anything but absolute devastation and heartbreak. He didn’t even know his face could _make_ such an expression.

                “Oh, shit,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Hey, Prompto. What’s going on?” he asked, voice soft as he approached the man.

                Brows drawn, Prompto raised his eyes to meet Gladio’s. “I…I don’t know what I did.”

                Though he couldn’t relate, Gladio definitely sympathized with the pain clear on Prompto’s face. “C’mon, Pipsqueak. Come sit down and tell me what’s up.”

                “Don’t treat me like Iris,” Prompto muttered, dropping into the back seat of the Regalia when Gladio opened the door.

                Gladio scoffed, leaning against the side of the car. “If you think I’m treating you like Iris, clearly you’ve never had to deal with my sister when she’s moody. Relax, I’m not gonna make fun of you or tease you.”

                Prompto’s shoulders fell. “He…” His voice wavered, and he paused, closing his eyes while taking a deep breath. “Um…he just told me he didn’t want to see my face for a while.”

                Wrinkling up his nose, Gladio narrowed his eyes. “What? That doesn’t sound like something he’d say, no matter how upset he is.”

                “I know! That’s why I’m confused. He was fine last night, so I don’t know what happened in between.” Propping his elbows on his knees, Prompto let his head hang as he sighed heavily.

                “Are you sure it’s you he’s mad at? He said _your face_ , but did he mean you as in me? Or you as in you?” Gladio asked.

                “I don’t know, Gladio. This whole mess is screwing with everything so bad. How would you feel if Iggy told you he didn’t want to see your face? It doesn’t feel very nice, no matter the circumstance.”

                “Maybe he feels guilty because his body reacted to yours, and in his own stupid way he’s trying to help? I don’t pretend to know what goes on in his head, but I do know he loves you, Prompto. It’s gotta be the curse talking, so don’t take it personally,” Gladio said, putting his hand on Prompto’s shoulder.

                A humorless smirk tugged at the corner of Prompto’s mouth. “Thanks. You always seem to be the one stuck with giving me pep talks.”

                “I don’t mind.”

                “I know that’s a lie, but I appreciate it anyway.”

                Rolling his eyes, Gladio squeezed Prompto’s shoulder before dropping his arm to his side. He wasn’t going to try convincing the man he honestly didn’t mind. While he may not be the greatest at giving advice, he was okay offering his ear to Prompto. Ever since their bonding experience when he helped their little chocobo-headed friend with his crush on Noctis, he found his protective instincts covered Prompto more than they had in the past.

                “I hate to interrupt, but may I inquire about His Highness’ mood?” Ignis asked, drawing Gladio’s attention. “It’s quite disturbing to see tears in his eyes at the best of times, but to see them on my own face is another matter entirely.”

                Mentally kicking himself for not noticing the man earlier, Gladio pushed himself away from the car and eyed Ignis’ hair. He had combed and gelled the normally spikey strands back in a fair facsimile of a pompadour.

                Ignoring Gladio’s raised eyebrows, Ignis focused on Prompto. “May I ask?”

                “He’s been like that since I got up,” Prompto answered half-heartedly.

                “Told Prompto he didn’t want to see his face for a while. Clearly he’s got his panties in a bunch about something.”

                “And I presume he’s not interested in talking about the problem?” sighed Ignis, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, this certainly puts a hitch in things.”

                “Not to be a jerk or anything, but that’s the last thing on my mind right now,” Prompto grumbled.

                Stepping forward, Gladio put himself between Ignis and Prompto. “I get that’s important, Ig’, but that’s a little harsh.”

                “I’m not trying to make light of the situation. I apologize, Prompto.”

                The man waved his hand dismissively. “S’okay.”

                “No, it’s not, Prom. Noctis should know better than to treat you like shit just because _he’s_ in a bad mood,” growled Gladio, flicking a glance over his shoulder.

                Prompto started up at Gladio with wide eyes. “While I appreciate the sentiment, please don’t use that nickname again. It’s weird coming from you.”

                “That’s what you took from that?” Gladio asked, voice flat, one brow arched.

                Prompto shrugged. “Maybe he’ll talk to you, Ig’. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye, and we’re not sure if it’s me he’s mad at, or Gladio.”

                Dipping his head in a nod, Ignis crossed his arms. “I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps you two ought to make yourselves scarce in the meantime?”

                Turning to Prompto, Gladio shrugged. “Wanna grab some breakfast? Then you can help me put these stupid contact lenses in.”

                Prompto’s entire body deflated with a heavy sigh before he pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, I guess,” he agreed, shutting the car door.

                “Please play nice,” Ignis told the pair.

                “We’ll be fine, Ig’. Just go sort out Prince Crabby. We got this.” Gladio gave Ignis a reassuring grin before chasing after Prompto.

                Grumbling low in his throat, Ignis rubbed a hand over his face. “At least they’re getting along again.” Turning back toward the caravan, he closed his eyes. He certainly had his work cut out for him today.


	10. Sweet Dreams are Made of These

                Noctis scrubbed the heels of hands over his eyes and sniffed loudly. He couldn’t believe he started crying. This day just needed to end. He was mortified by his own behavior, he yelled at Prompto for something that wasn’t his fault, and he’d done it in front of Gladio.

                “You’re a Royal screw-up,” he told himself. _You can’t even keep your emotions under control, how are you ever going to be fit to rule a kingdom? Why would Prompto even waste his time with an idiot like you?_

                Pressing his fists against his eyes, Noctis took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He couldn’t avoid this forever, but the thought of telling Prompto made his stomach do backflips. It was only a dream, one probably inspired by this stupid curse, but it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t try to stop Gladio even though his dream-self knew better. That made him feel worse than anything. If he found himself in the same situation in waking life, no matter how unlikely it was to happen, he feared he’d behave the same way. It didn’t seem to matter that he had no feelings for Gladio.

                Noctis felt sick. A dream shouldn’t have this much power over him. The fear and heartache were overwhelming.

                A light tap on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Highness?”

                “G’way, Specs,” Noctis answered, closing his eyes and frowning.

                “I shall do nothing of the sort. We need to resolve whatever put you in this foul mood. Prompto and Gladio thought you may be more comfortable discussing the problem with me.”

                _Yeah, because I totally want to tell you I was having sex with your boyfriend in my dream._ “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

                Ignis’ quiet sigh filtered through the thin door. “Unless you wish to be stuck this way for the rest of our lives, I highly suggest you come out here and speak to me. You ought to know by now there is no shame in seeking help for your troubles.”

                Noctis grumbled low in his throat. “Why do you always have to be right?” With a final swipe of his hands over his eyes, Noct let himself out of the bathroom.

                “Oh, Noct,” Ignis sighed, brows drawn with concern. The man’s eyes were red, the skin surrounding them raw from where he wiped away tears. He held his glasses in one hand while fidgeting nervously with his pant leg with his other hand. He refused to look up at Ignis.

                “Yeah, I’m a mess,” Noct muttered, setting the glasses on the small counter.

                Gently putting his hand on Noct’s arm, Ignis indicated for him to sit. Noctis sat down on one side of the tiny built-in table, his back to the bed at the far end of the caravan. As Ignis sat down opposite him, he caught the dark blush on the man’s cheeks before he lowered his head to hide it.

                They sat in silence for a long time, Ignis patiently waiting for Noctis to begin whenever he felt comfortable. Nearly five minutes quietly ticked by, Noct shifting uncomfortably in his seat and sending awkward glances at Ignis.

                Eventually, Noctis let out a heavy sigh, sat up straight, and tried to meet Ignis’ eyes, but failed. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. A few more seconds passed, and he tried again.

                “I can’t face Prompto,” he finally mumbled, resting his elbows on the table.

                “How come?”

                The blush on Noctis’ face deepened. “Now that I have to say it out loud, it seems really stupid. I, um…I had a dream last night.”

                “A dream? One of your usual nightmares? Or something different?”

                Noctis’ ears and neck began to flush the same color as his cheeks. “Uh…different. _Very_ different.”

                Tilting his head, Ignis studied Noctis’s face. “Would you like to elaborate?”

                “Not really, no. But I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

                Ignis crossed his arms and reclined in his seat. “Take your time.”

                Peeking up at Ignis from under his eyebrows, Noctis felt the hoard of butterflies in his belly and heard the nagging voices of anxiety in his head. _None of them are going to forgive you. This is your fault for keeping secrets._ Ignis face was soft with concern and something inside Noctis twinged with irrational hatred.

                “It was…” —Noctis swallowed hard, combing his fingers through his hair— “a dirty dream,” he mumbled.

                A light dusting of pink colored Ignis’ cheeks. “Alright. While I understand why that’s embarrassing, I don’t see why it’s made you so angry.”

                Noctis clenched his fists, his dull nails biting into the flesh of his palm. He wasn’t going to get anywhere being shy. Sparing as many details as he could, Noctis told Ignis the contents of his dream.

                Ignis was silent a long time, his cheeks now as red as Noctis’. “Oh,” he finally whispered.

                “I’m sorry, Specs. You’re probably really weirded out now, and I don’t blame you,” Noctis mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

                Ignis made a noise in his throat and lifted his hand to adjust his glasses as he often did when nervous, only to remember they weren’t there. Dropping his hand, he cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “You are not the problem here, Highness. Without going into too much detail, I can tell you for certain your –ahem—dream is entirely the fault of this blasted spell.”

                “Yeah, I already know that much, but I was still conscious of what was going on and I _let it happen_. That’s why I can’t talk to Prompto about this. _Especially_ while he’s in Gladio’s body.”

                Folding his hands on the table, he straightened his spine and forced himself to look at Noctis. “I understand your plight, but the person in the dream was not you.”

                Finally lifting his head, Noctis’ brow twitched as he met Ignis’ eyes. “Huh?”

                “While my dream was not as explicit as yours, last night I experienced a moment of your life through your eyes. You and Prompto were in sleeping bags, on the floor right here, whispering about intimate things. The only reason I know it for a memory and not a dream is because I was awake that night and overheard part of the conversation,” explained Ignis.

                All color drained from Noctis’ face. “That was a _memory_? _Your_ memory?” Noctis’ voice cracked in horror.

                Ignis could only manage a small nod.

                Noctis covered his face with both hands, groaning. “Oh, man. This is worse than the guilt!”

                “I am not pleased you have this knowledge either, but the _only_ reason I admitted to it was so you can make up with Prompto.”

                “I thought my brain was making stuff up to torment me with the crush I had on Gladio in high school!” Noctis complained into his hands.

                “What?”

                “What?”

                Silence stretched between the men as they stared at one another in shock.

                “A-anyway, how did this happen? Like, I shouldn’t be having your memories just because I’m in your body.”

                “It would seem whatever magic is influencing our bodies also affects our minds. It was a sense-memory, clarified by the curse and projected into your mind like a vision. Location, the proximity to Gladio’s body, scent, touch, it all created what you saw. Now, do you understand why it’s important we don’t touch one another?” Sighing, Ignis shot a glare at the man.

                “Why just us, though? Why aren’t Prompto and Gladio being affected like we are?”

                Ignis shrugged. “All I have are theories. Perhaps it’s because our bond is stronger, so our minds are easier to muddle together. We have been together since childhood, after all. Or they are experiencing the same issues, but just aren’t interpreting them as problems. It’s difficult to say when I have no knowledge of this magic.”

                “Dammit,” hissed Noctis, combing his fingers through his hair. “This really just feels like one trial after another to see how messed up we get.”

                “I very well may be. And we keep failing the tests.”

                “If I keep getting these… _memories_ , I never want to sleep again,” Noctis grumbled, shuddering. “I also never want to share sleeping accommodations with you _ever_ again.”

                “Believe me, Gladio was severely reprimanded for his behavior.”

                “Oh, so _that’s_ why the last time we were out this way, you didn’t talk to him for two days?”

                Ignis dipped his head in agreement.

                “Well, um, thanks for this. I guess. Still don’t know how I’m gonna face Prompto. Not looking like Gladio.”

                “Perhaps you should think about it while you shower. You smell rather ripe.”

                “Stress and exercise do that to a man.”

                “Yes, well take care of it. I don’t like the idea of looking so slovenly,” Ignis told him. “I’ll go speak with Prompto and have him wait for you at the dining area.” Getting to his feet, he patted Noctis’ shoulder and excused himself.

                Noctis took a moment to collect himself after Ignis left. While he was no longer angry and guilt-ridden, strong emotions still prickled inside him. Mortification on the top of the list.

                “I dunno who or what you are Tuudoh, but if you could stop jerking us around, I’d appreciate it,” he sighed to the empty caravan.

                Shaking his head, Noctis pushed himself to his feet and kicked off his clothes. He wanted to stand under the showerhead until the water ran out, but settled for a quick five-minute wash. It would be better for him to talk to Prompto _before_ he had time to overthink again.

                Dressed in clean clothes again, hair still damp, Noctis went to find Prompto. As Ignis said, he was waiting at the dining area. In true nervous Prompto fashion, he sat at the furthest table, tapping his fingers on the rough wood surface as his leg bounced with pent-up energy.

                Noctis had noticed long ago how differently the man behaved alone as opposed to being with his friends. When he was alone, he was hyper-observant, eyes constantly moving, aware of everything going on around him. When he was with them, he was more relaxed, letting his reflexes take the place of his senses. The first time Noctis noticed the behavior, it made him so happy to know Prompto was comfortable enough with them to let his guard down.

                When Prompto’s eyes landed on him, Noctis could see him focus, the rest of the word fading to noise. Eagerness, love, and trepidation warred on his face and Noctis couldn’t even tell in this moment that those features weren’t actually Prompto’s.

                Noctis never felt like such a piece of shit in his entire life. “Hey,” he greeted with a tiny, two-fingered wave.

                “H-hey,” Prompto answered shakily, halfway out of his chair.

                Shaking his head, Noctis flopped into the seat opposite Prompto and watched him sit back down slowly. Huffing out a breath, he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried to gather his thoughts. He wanted to give some eloquent apology, but he knew it would never happen. “Sorry for being an asshole,” he muttered instead.

                “N-no, it’s okay.”

                Noctis’ eyes flicked up to lock on Prompto’s face. “It’s not! I was a dick to you because of a stupid dream. It had nothing to do with you, but because you look like him, and I felt guilty, I took it out on you. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

                “A dream?” Prompto asked, a slight crease of a frown between his brows.

                Hating himself with every word, Noctis described his ‘dream’ to Prompto. He didn’t tell him it was actually a memory. Not yet, anyway. Maybe later when he wasn’t so horrified by the thought.

                “Well,” squeaked Prompto, clearing his throat before trying again. “Well, it was just a dream. Not your fault, right? It’s the curse.” The words poured out of him as heat rose in his cheeks. “Geez, I didn’t think Gladio blushed this easily.”

                A smile tugged at Noctis’ mouth. “Yeah, it is, but I still feel like a jerk. Especially since I thought it was because of the crush I had on him in high school.”

                Prompto shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t briefly consider it. For two months.”

                “That…that’s not the response I was expecting.”

                “Masking my feels with comedy. Look, I am stupidly jealous because it was Gladio and not me. But I am also, ashamedly, kinda turned on. You can’t just describe something like that to a guy and have him be completely unaffected!”

                Noctis felt some tension drain at Prompto’s stupid comment. “So…we’re good?”

                The humor faded from Prompto’s eyes. “I know you’re not the most talkative guy out there, and you’re a hundred times worse when you’ve got a problem ‘cause you don’t want to burden anyone. But this time it made you say some really nasty things. Hearing you say you didn’t want to see my face…that hurt, Noct. Like, a lot.”

                “I know, and I feel like garbage for saying it. You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

                “Then next time just trust me more. You know I wouldn’t get mad about something like that.”

                “I will.”

                Prompto nodded, remaining silent for a long while. Noctis watched him his heart hammering in his chest as he awaited his judgment. After a span of time that seemed like an eternity, a bright grin washed over Prompto’s face.

                “Okay, we’re good.”

                “Thank you, Prom.”

                “But as payment?”

                “Yeah?”

                “When we get our bodies back, we’re doing the thing from your dream. I’ll take Gladio’s roll.”

                Noctis swallowed hard as the butterflies in his belly awoke once more. “Sure.”


	11. This is Not Our Name

                “So, anyone wanna tell me what happened this morning?” Gladio asked as they sat down for lunch.

                “No,” replied Prompto, Ignis, and Noctis in unison.

                He blinked at them for a moment, eyes wide. “Yeah, that seems fair.”

                “It was a by-product of the curse,” Ignis informed him in hopes it would prevent any more questions for the moment.

                Gladio looked from one man to the next, one brow quirked. “Okay, guess I get to be the odd man out on this,” he sighed, making a mental note to pester Ignis about this later. He _needed_ to know why all three of them were blushing to varying degrees.

                “Apologies, Gladio,” Ignis said, dipping his head. Though the look he gave him afterward promised an explanation.

                The man shrugged. “Whatever. So, are we intent on staying out here until we sort this out?” he asked, crossing his legs.

                Everyone looked to Ignis as though the man was in charge of their itinerary.

                “Well, I assume we’ll have to spend some time in the wilderness to find Tuudoh again, but I see no reason to leave at the moment. It’s up to Noct, really, but I would suggest limiting the number of people we need to deal with.”

                The attention turned on Noctis.

                Shrugging, Noctis slid low in his seat, crossing his arms. “I’m still in favor of an actual hotel with a real bed and a real shower.”

                “Then we should head to Lestallum.”

                “That doesn’t exactly limit our exposure to others,” Ignis pointed out.

                “Maybe not, but we might learn more about Tuudoh than Dave’s single dusty book has to offer,” Gladio replied.

                “How?” Prompto asked, doing a fair imitation of Gladio’s impatient scowl.

                “While you guys were busy, I decided to check in on my sister. Text. Don’t panic.”

                Ignis narrowed his eyes.

                “She told me about a stash of pre-war books she and Talcott found in the Leville basement before they headed up to Cape Caem.”

                Prompto’s eyebrows slid upward. “Seriously?”

                “That’s, like, stupidly lucky,” Noctis added.

                Gladio shrugged. “Well, we don’t know if there’s anything useful, but she said there was a bunch of volumes of Cosmogony plus some thick textbooks without dustjackets.”

                “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look,” Ignis said, folding his arms over his chest.

                “If we leave after lunch, we can get some research done before bed.”

                The men turned their attention to Noctis, eyes wide.

                Prompto reached out, putting the back of his hand to Noctis’ forehead. “You okay, bud?”

                Noctis’ eyes slid toward Prompto. “I’m fine. Why?”

                “You just said you wanted to do research,” Gladio told him.

                “No, I said we _could_ do research,” he clarified.

                “Yes. _We_ ,” Ignis stated.

                Noctis glanced at his friends. “Why is that weird?”

                “That sounds more like Iggy than you, Noct,” answered Prompto, leaning forward to get a better look at the man’s eyes.

                Unable to deny it, Ignis inclined his head in agreement.

                “Have you guys forgotten I was _top of my class_? I’m good at this kinda thing.”

                “Doesn’t mean you ever liked doing it,” scoffed Gladio.

                “I’m willing to suffer if it means I can be _me_ again,” Noctis grumbled.

                “There it is,” laughed Prompto, giving Noctis a playful shove.

                Scowling, Noct batted Prompto’s hand away and clicked his tongue.

                “Alright, I suppose that’s settled, then. We’ll head to Lestallum after we’ve eaten,” Ignis confirmed.

                “Soft beds, baby!”

***

                Prompto didn’t remember falling asleep, but he would remember the sheer panic he felt upon waking for a long time to come. His drowsy mind couldn’t tell him where they were or how long they had been driving, but he could smell the rain and hear the lowing and whinnying of nearby Arba.

                An auto drive, he was already halfway out of the car before his mind caught up to his reflexes. Silent, with weapons drawn, the other stood to either side of him. Fifty feet away, barely visible through the curtain of grey rain, stood a woman. Bloodied, rusted heavy armor masked her frame, but he could almost sense her feminine presence.

                No one spoke, no one moved as the rain-soaked them through to the bone. Prompto couldn’t hear anything; the rain, the wildlife, not even his own breathing. Fear of isolation gripped his chest and he had to reach out to the person closest to him just to know he wasn’t alone.

                The woman was closer. She hadn’t moved, yet she closed the distance by half. Her waist-length hair, rusty-red like the color of dried blood, floated about her body in the wind. A large piece of her breastplate was missing and in its place a dark, oozing hole. Not a wound, but a gaping, bottomless maw where her heart should have been. Black slime strikingly similar to daemon stain rolled in thick ropes over her formerly slate-grey armor.

                Prompto couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away.

                She stood before him, toe-to-toe. Fury burned in her one good eye, the iris a blue so light it was nearly white. Her right eye, a haunting flat black across the entire thing, locked on his face, seeing without _seeing_.

                _You cannot help us._

                “Who are you?” Prompto’s whispered words were lost in the downpour.

                _We used to be your saving grace. Your one hope in a world plagued by death._

                Breath hitching in his throat, Prompto’s eyes shot wide. “Tuudoh?”

                _This is not our name!_

                Fear and pain sparked through Prompto’s body and he squeezed whoever’s arm he clutched. His knees could no longer support his weight and he collapsed. He didn’t feel the sharp pain radiate from his kneecaps where they struck the road as his chin was forced up. The woman stared down at him, face a rapidly shifting mess of human and daemon.

                _Give up. Not even the King of Light can save us._

                Prompto had so many questions. So many things to say to this woman, but his jaw was held shut. All he could do was scream through a closed mouth.

                _Prompto._

                Hissing filled his ears as sound slowly returned. He blinked his burning eyes and the woman was gone.

                _Prompto!_

Rain blinded him, deafened him, trapped him with his hammering heart and suffocating fear.

                “Prompto!”

                Sucking in a breath, Prompto’s wide eyes flicked about wildly until they found the person who called his name. Ignis—no, Noctis—stared at him with raised eyebrows. Relief washed through Prompto at the sight.

                “Hey,” Noctis searched his eyes, leaning so far forward he barely sat on the seat. “You okay?”

                Though there was still a hard thumping in his chest, Prompto nodded. “Uh…yeah. How long was I asleep?”

                “Not long. Maybe twenty minutes?” Noctis answered, glancing at Gladio, who twisted around in his seat to look at them.

                “Yeah, it couldn’t have been much longer than that freak rain storm we drove through by the Stables,” he replied.

                “Rainstorm?” Prompto asked, noticing he still clutched Noctis’ arm.

                “You slept through the entire thing,” Ignis informed him, glancing into the rear-view mirror to meet his eyes.

                “I woulda just let you nap, but you grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise and started screaming. Like, actual screams of terror.”

                “I never want to hear that sound again,” Ignis muttered, shifting in his seat.

                “The hell were you dreaming?” Gladio asked.

                Prompto frowned, eyes losing focus as he stared at his knees. “I…talked to Tuudoh.”

                “What?”

                “Well, not Tuudoh _exactly_ , but, like, half of it?”

                Gladio wrinkled up his nose. “Huh?”

                “A woman. She told me we couldn’t save them.” Raising his head, he looked at Noctis with wide, pleading eyes. “She was in so much pain, Noct.”

                “How do you know she was part of Tuudoh?” Ignis asked.

                “Her overreaction when I said the name kinda gave it away,” he grumbled, rubbing his knees.

                “Did she say anything that could help us?” Noctis asked him, linking their fingers together as he sat back in his seat.

                Prompto shook his head, scrubbing his free hand over his face. “Gods, I’m tired. Feel like I just lapped all of Insomnia.”

                “Nightmares can do that,” Noctis said, scooting closer and leaning his head on Prompto’s shoulder.

                “This was different,” Prompto replied with a small shake of his head.

                Ignis sighed softly, ignoring the clear violation of their touching rule yet again. “How so?” he asked.

                “Y’know how dreams feel real while you’re in them, but then you wake up and realize how ridiculous it all was?”

                Ignis nodded.

                “I’d have an easier time believing this, right now, is the dream.”

                Noctis squeezed his hand in reassurance.

                “Sorry it didn’t give us anything helpful. All she did was try and warn us off.”

                “Well she should be told we aren’t so easily dissuaded,” Ignis said with a smirk.

                “If I see her again, I’ll let her know. Though after that I don’t think I’ll sleep again for a while.”

                Next to him, Noctis chuckled. “We’ve got a lot of heavy reading to do. You’ll be asleep again before dinner.”

                “Will not!”

                “Will too.”

                “Noct!”

                Gladio groaned, slouching in his seat.

                “The amount of times you fell asleep during our study sessions says otherwise,” Noctis teased, peeking up at the man.

                “Help me out here, Iggy!” Prompto pleaded.

                Glancing in the mirror at Prompto, Ignis flashed a smile. “We’ll be in Lestallum shortly, gentlemen.”

                Prompto puffed out a breath. “You guys are jerks.”

                Turning his face against Prompto’s arm, Noctis grinned. “We’ll make sure to give you the books with pictures.”


	12. The More You Know

                _Achoo!_

                “Was that the ninth or tenth?” Gladio chuckled, glancing up from his book.

                “I lost track,” Noctis grumbled.

                “I believe that was the tenth,” Ignis commented, peeking up at the others.

                “Can’t help it!” Prompto whined with a nasally voice. “Gladio’s allergies are outta control.” He sneezed again.

                “These books are pretty dusty. At least I don’t have to deal with it for a change.” Turning the page, a small cloud of dust puffed off the book.

                “C’mon, I’m sufferin’ over here!” A chain of sneezes brought the total to fifteen. “My eyes itch, my nose itches, and I feel like I’ve got a head cold.”

                “Any excuse to get out of reading,” Noctis sighed, shaking his head as he turned his page.

                Prompto pouted, his face twisting up comically as the itch of an impending sneeze filled his sinuses. “Yeah, because I’m totally gonna learn anything in,” –Prompto peeked at the cover of his book— “ _Marine Biology of Eos, 726 Edition_.”

                Noctis stopped reading and raised his eyebrows at Prompto. “Why did you even take that one?”

                “There’s like, twenty books in that box. I grabbed one at random,” Prompto replied with a shrug.

                “Maybe pick one with a relevant title this time,” Gladio advised, reaching across the coffee table and plucking the book from Prompto’s hands.

                “So I can sneeze all over it?” Prompto asked, rubbing his nose. Sighing, he leaned back in his seat and sneezed yet again. “What’re _you_ guys reading?”

                Tossing the biology book aside, Gladio turned his own over to read the spine. “ _Duscae’s One Hundred Most Influential Individuals_. Published in 719.”

                “ _Myths and Monsters; An Unofficial Bestiary_ ,” Noctis replied.

                “ _Fabulae et Vita: Viribus Gelida_.”

                “That sounds important,” Noctis commented, raising his eyes from his volume.

                Prompto leaned over to peek at Ignis’ book. “Can you read it? Is it in Lucian?”

                “Yes, and yes. It appears to be—”

                “Huh,” Gladio interrupted, flipping his page. “Did you guys know a hundred years ago there was a man who lived out near Alstor who farmed— raised? —cactuar?”

                “That hardly seems to be a rewarding profession. Why?” Ignis humored Gladio, looking up from his book.

                The man scanned a few lines of text. “He used their needles to create poison antidotes.”

                Ignis raised his brows, impressed. “While that does sound like an intriguing read, it hardly pertains to our predicament.”

                “Well I’m not done reading, just thought it was an interesting face to mention.”

                “Oh, yeah, totally!” Prompto agreed. “Y’know, now that I think about it, have you ever seen a baby cactuar? Like, do they all come in one size?”

                Noctis smirked. “Getting a little off-track, Prom.”

                “One day I’m gonna find a baby cactuar and snap a picture of it!”

                “If anyone can do it, it’d be you, Prompto,” Gladio assured him with a nod.

                Prompto beamed at the approval.

                Shaking his head, Noctis’ smile slipped as he turned his attention back to Ignis. “What were you saying, Specs?”

                “This book seems to be a biography of sorts,” he replied.

                “Well, yeah. The title itself pretty much means _life story_. Who’s it about?” Noctis asked, pulling his feet up into the chair and crossing his legs.

                “Insomnian born twins Eyoralin Viribus and Timorea Gelida,” Ignis answered as his eyes continued to move across the lines of text.

                “Never heard of ‘em,” said Gladio.

                “If they were important enough to have a book written about their lives, you’d think at least one of us would know who they are. Any ideas, Iggy?”

                The man shook his head. “I can’t say I’m familiar with the names. Perhaps they earned their reputation outside the city.”

                “That makes sense,” Prompto agreed, nodding.

                “Prompto?”

                “Yeah, Ig?”

                “Describe the woman you saw in your dream for me, please.”

                “With or without the grody daemon ooze?”

                “Without, if you wouldn’t mind.”

                “Uh…She would have been drop-dead gorgeous when she was alive. Dark red hair, _scary_ blue eyes. Or, eye. The other one was black, but I think that had to do with being a daemon. Old fashion armor…I was kinda too scared to absorb much else.”

                Gladio turned his book around, holding it in one hand. “This her?”

                Eyebrows raised, Prompto looked up at Gladio’s book. As soon as his eyes locked on the portrait, he felt an icy hand grip his heart. Unable to form words, Prompto nodded emphatically, sinking as far into his chair as he could.

                Setting his book on the coffee table, Noctis got up and circled around to Prompto’s chair. Perching on the arm of the chair, he slipped his hand across the man’s shoulders. “You okay?” he asked, voice low.

                Heart pounding hard in his chest, Prompto couldn’t even nod as he stared at the image of the woman. Wide eyes locked on the picture, the same fear and pain he experienced in his dream trickling through him. Everything around the picture faded out of focus and black ooze dribbled from her right eye. The image shifted as she turned to look directly at him. That same fury he saw before burned in her good eye.

                Prompto spat out a curse, shooting out of his chair and rubbing his hands over his face. “Guys, I can’t. She’s in my head and she’s—” Sighing out a heavy breath, Prompto disappeared into the bathroom.

                Noctis glanced at Ignis, eyes filled with concern.

                “Gladio, may I see that book, please?” Ignis held out his hand, lips pursed. “I believe with these two books, I have plenty of research to do. Perhaps you should take Prompto out, help him relax.”

                “I’ll stay here and help,” Gladio stated.

                “You sure you want to let us off the hook?” Noctis asked, clasping his hands between his knees as he met the man’s eyes.

                “There is no hook to be let off of,” Ignis replied. “We have two books and four sets of eyes. Prompto is clearly disturbed by what he saw, so I won’t force him to help. And you are a greater source of comfort to him than either of us. That eliminated two superfluous sets of eyes.”

                Noctis blinked. “Wow. Cold.”

                “Just take the kid out for a few hours. Stop arguing.” Gladio told him with a shake of his head.

                Crossing his arms, Noctis slowly rose to his feet and narrowed his eyes. He flicked a glance toward the bathroom door. “You trust us alone together?”

                “You and I both know how little any of us pay attention to that rule, so I will redact it. However, that being said, I trust you to understand appropriate boundaries. Remember, those are not your bodies to do with as you please.”

                Chest swelling with a deep breath, Noctis dipped his head. “Got it. You don’t have to worry about us doing anything like that.”

                “Good. Go enjoy yourselves, Highness. Gladio and I will do what we can here.” Ignis offered a half smile before turning his attention back to the books. Looking at the lines of text without actually seeing it, he listened to Noctis coax Prompto out of the bathroom, then leave the suite.

                “I get kicking Prompto off research duty, but why Noctis?” Gladio asked when the door closed behind the pair.

                Handing one book over to Gladio, Ignis met his gaze. “Between what happened this morning, and the way Prompto is behaving now, His Highness’ concentration is severely lacking. His attention is better suited to calming Prompto at the moment.”

                “What _did_ happen this morning?”

                “Do you recall the events which led to my not speaking to you for two days?”

                Brow knit in a frown, Gladio thought for a moment. When he located the memory, his face lit up with a bright grin. “Oh, yeah! It was worth it. That was a good night.”

                “Noctis experienced those events through a dream.”

                Gladio’s jaw dropped.

                “He was rightly upset.”

                “W-w-what do you mean by _experienced_?” Gladio stuttered out, swallowing hard.

                Ignis’ cheeks flushed as he cleared his throat. “He’s in _my_ body, Gladio.”

                “And he was with me in the dream. No wonder he wanted to avoid Prompto,” Gladio groaned. “We need to fix this _now_. I really don’t want to deal with something like that.”

                “Then I suggest you start reading.”

                Nose wrinkled up at the prospect of having a dirty dream in the role of Prompto, Gladio opened his book again. Turning the page away from the portrait of the woman, a new face greeted him. This was an official-looking image, like one used in records, or on ID badges.

                “Hey, Ig?”

                “Yes?”

                Gladio put the book on the coffee table and spun it toward Ignis. “Does he look familiar to you?”

                Ignis studied the image for a moment. “Yes, I do believe I’ve seen this man before. He was a member of the Crownsguard under King Mors, was he not?”

                “Yes! That’s where I saw him. Hall of Records,” Gladio answered with a nod. “My dad made me study up on notable members of the Guard. Mors favored him because he was some sort of magic prodigy.”

                Ignis quickly flipped through his book, finding a section pertaining to the skills of the man known as Timorea Gelida. “How unusual,” he muttered, scanning the page.

                “What?”

                “As we all know, only members of the royal family and those blessed by the family can use the power of the elements. Timorea, with no connection to the throne, was able to use magic from a young age.”

                “You can use magic, too,” Gladio pointed out.

                “I believe my skills come from my close connection to Noctis and His Majesty. It is also theorized I may be very distantly related to the Lucis Caelum line,” Ignis replied.

                “Maybe it’s the same for Timorea?”

                “I suppose it’s possible. There had to be many branch families over the years. Either way, the fact that he can use magic isn’t the unusual part. He can only use one of the elements. Apparently, he was very strongly tied to ice elemancy.”

                “That’s…weird.”

                Ignis nodded. “I cannot say I’ve ever heard of such a case. Even members of the Glaive, who tend to favor certain elements, still have the ability to use others.”

                Gladio scoffed. “Did he make some deal with the Glacian?” he joked.

                “At this point, I won’t rule anything out.”


	13. Lie To Me

                Noctis didn’t release Prompto’s hand until he found a little nook of Lestallum where they were completely alone. “Sit down,” he instructed, hands on his hips.

                Prompto arched a brow, eyeing the cracked and stained concrete. “Here?”

                “This is the cleanest patch of ground you’ll find in Lestallum. C’mon, just sit down.”

                Shrugging, Prompto did as he was asked. Leaning against the faded blue wall of one building, his boots almost touched the wall of the opposite building. If he was in his own body, the narrow alley wouldn’t seem quite so claustrophobic. “You gonna join me?”

                Stepping over Prompto’s legs, Noctis sat down in his lap. He shuffled forward until his knees bumped the wall, wrapped his arms around Prompto’s neck, and hugged him tight. With their chests pressed together, he buried his face against Prompto’s jaw and relaxed against the man’s body.

                “Oh! Uh, what’s up, buddy?” Prompto asked, returning the hug.

                Noctis gave a tiny shake of his head. “Nothing. I just want some affection,” he muttered.

                “That’s kinda weird for you to admit. You sure there’s nothing wrong? You’re over this morning?”

                Noctis sighed, his breath hot against Prompto’s neck. “I’m trying not to think about that, to be honest. I wanna know what’s going on with you. You freaked me out back there.”

                An unconvincing nervous chuckle bubbled out of Prompto. “Oh yeah? What’d I do?”

                Frowning, Noctis sat up. He linked his fingers behind Prompto’s neck and looked into the amber eyes belonging to Gladio. Only, he didn’t see Gladio. He saw all the warmth, love, and exuberant personality that made Prompto. “You told us she was in your head, Prom. That’s not something to brush off.”

                “Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t know why I said that,” he muttered, looking away.

                “You’re not a good liar, Prompto. What happened?”

                _If only he knew the secrets you keep. He would never love you if he found out._

Prompto swallowed hard, trying not to react to the voice in his head. His own negativity was one thing, but he knew instantly this was different. That woman _was_ in his head.

                “Prompto,” Noctis sighed. “How many times are we gonna have this back and forth where one of us tells the other we can talk about anything? We’re supposed to trust each other, remember?”

                “Wow, this is a total Pot and Kettle thing. I’m just trying to gather my thoughts. I’m not hiding anything, promise.” It was his turn to lean on Noctis. He put his forehead against the man’s shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. He kinda liked being so big; it made tiny gestures like this somehow more comforting. It gave him the impression he was finally able to properly protect and love Noctis. When they were in their own bodies, he was still able to clasp his arms around Noctis and cuddle him, but this felt different.

                “She’s making me see things,” he finally admitted. “When I was looking at her picture in the book, it started _moving_. She looked at me, that gross black goo dripping off her face. It was like something out of a bad horror movie, Noct.”

                “Or one of my nightmares,” Noctis grumbled back. “I wish I could tell her to leave you alone. I’d take on Tuudoh again right now.”

                “I know you would, bud. Looks like we all get to put up with our own personal torment until we figure this out. Just gotta remember it’s not real.”

                “I don’t get why it just seems to be us, though. Gladio doesn’t seem to be affected by anything.”

                Prompto shrugged. “He’s good at hiding things, unlike us.”

                “That’s debatable.”

                Grinning against Noct’s shoulder, Prompto laughed. “I guess that’s true.”

                “I know it’s only been a couple days, but I miss you, Prom.” Leaning back slightly, Noctis hugged Prompto’s head against his chest.

                “I know what you mean,” Prompto sighed, voice muffled in the soft fabric of Noctis’ shirt. He wanted to spend a day in bed, naked, lazy fingers wandering over each other’s skin. Not that they had ever been able to do that, but it didn’t stop him from wanting it.

                Noctis bit his lip, sweat prickling his palms. “Uh, Prom?”

                “I know! I’m sorry!”

                “You know I can’t do anything about it, right?” Noctis reminded him, trying not to move in his lap.

                The whimper that escaped Prompto’s throat sounded strange in Gladio’s deep tones. “And it would be way too weird to take care of it myself.”

                “Maybe I should move.”

                Prompto squeezed Noctis’ waist. “Please don’t. I like holding you like this.”

                “Prom?”

                Frowning against his chest, Prompto let out a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna get really cheesy here for a minute, ‘kay?”

                Noctis didn’t reply.

                “Cuddling with you is probably my favorite thing ever. Being close and touching, feeling each other’s heat…I feel safe and comfortable. But being big like this? It gives me the sense I can do that for you. We’re always in danger, and I want to give you a chance to completely drop your guard, to relax. I can’t do that when I’m, well, _me_.”

                The sadness in Prompto’s voice made Noctis’ chest hurt. Leaning back, he cupped Prompto’s scruffy cheeks and made the man look up at him. “Don’t be an idiot,” he whispered bluntly.

                “What? Noct, I’m pouring my heart out here, and—”

                Noctis clasped a hand over Prompto’s mouth and arched a brow.

                After a moment of silence, Prompto puffed out an amused snort. “Was I babbling?” he chuckled when Noctis moved his hand.

                “No, but you were about to. Look, I don’t know where you got the idea I don’t feel safe and comfortable with you, but I do. There’s a bigger size difference between us _now_ than when we’re normal. But because we’re so similar in size, we can give and take equally and easily. Face it, Prom. You and me? Made for each other.” A rare soft smile washed over Noctis’ face and he was blushing hard, though a shadow across his face hid the color.

                Groaning low in his throat, Prompto pressed his face against Noctis’ chest again. “It’s not fair how cute you are.”

                “Nah, pretty sure _you’re_ the cute one here.”

                _He hates you. His placating words only serve to cease your obnoxious clinging. You’re a leech and he’d be rid of you in a heartbeat if he could._

                “She’s right, Prompto.”

                “Huh?”

                “I never wanted you here.”

                Prompto’s head snapped up. Noctis stared back at him with softly glowing pink eyes.

                “You’re a liability. I should have listened to Gladio. Should have just brought one of my properly trained guards. Someone who doesn’t whine at every turn. I don’t need a useless _pleb_.”

                Prompto shook his head. “No. This isn’t real.”

                “It’s as real as I am, you twit.” The face staring back at him shifted, eyes lightening from pink to white-blue, hair growing out in waves of red. Eyoralin glared down at him, a condescending sneer twisting her full lips.

                “No!” Acting on instinct, Prompto shoved the woman away and scrambled to his feet. “Why are you doing this?”

                Clicking her tongue, she stood and lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m showing you the truth, Sweetpea,” she said, rolling her eyes, both that bright blue. She quirked a brow at him, everything about her very real and very human.

                “It’s all lies,” Prompto growled back.

                Eyoralin rolled her eyes again. “Hardly. Have you been inside his head, blondie? Because I have. It’s an interesting place, you know. Lots of dark, depressing thoughts about abandonment and self-loathing. He doesn’t think he’s good enough for anyone. And he’s right.”

                “Stop!”

                Grinning at him, Eyoralin took a step forward. “Oh, c’mon now. No need to be so defensive around me. If you’d just listen to what I’m telling you, you’d see how well we get along. We’re very similar, you see.”

                “Give Noct back,” he demanded, eyes narrow.

                Eyoralin heaved a sigh. “No.”

                Thrown off by the blunt reply, Prompto’s brow twitched. His answer was a very Gladio-esque grunt of annoyance.

                “It’s fun in here. I have freedom I haven’t felt in _years_. Eventually, I might even take his _real_ body. Once you’re all so far gone, lost and confused about your own identities, you won’t even notice.” Shrugging, she smiled at him. “You don’t want him like this anyway. And don’t forget; he doesn’t want you _at all_.”

                “Even if that is true, I’m happy enough he’s faking it for my sake.” Despite his current size, Prompto had never felt smaller.

                “And you _would_ be satisfied by that, Sunshine. After all, no one wanted you before, so why change things now? The only difference is people are willing to tolerate you longer.”

                “I’m trying to improve myself. To stay useful.” Squeezing his eyes shut, Prompto inhaled deeply. A feather-light touch grazed his cheek.

                “You know deep down you’ll never be useful. They don’t need you. You’re a mascot. A pet, at best,” she told him, her words soft and low.

                Prompto smacked her hand away. “Don’t.”

                Scowling, Eyoralin leaned in close. “Shall we ask Noctis?”

                Prompto bit his lip to keep a whimpering reply from escaping.

                “Prom?”

                Clenching his hands into fists, Prompto refused to acknowledge his name. He knew he’d only see Eyoralin mocking him.

                “C’mon, Prom. Don’t be like that. You knew this was coming. It’s just a little sooner than you figured. The closer we get to Altissia, the more nervous and clingy you get. Everyone sees it.”

                His blunt nails dug into his palm.

                “What? Did you think I’d let you stay after I get married? You’ve gotta be kidding. I won’t need you for _anything_ when I have a beautiful wife. Someone who can rule publicly by my side, give me an heir, who is loved by _everyone_.”

                “Please, that’s enough.”

                “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

                Prompto felt his entire body tense, the part of him which was still distinctly Gladio primed for a fight.

                “Are you going to run? You’re good at that, right? And I don’t mean in the physical sense.”

                Without thinking, his body reacted to the threat Eyoralin presented, even if it wasn’t a physical one. His fist connected with her cheek before he was able to pull the punch. Taken by surprise, she went sprawling. Hands shaking, Prompto blinked at the body prone on the ground before him.

                His stomach twisted into knots. Noctis lay unconscious at his feet. He just knocked his boyfriend out because a hallucination taunted him.

                Even if Noctis forgave him, he didn’t know if he could forgive himself.


	14. The Choice is Yours

                Ignis scowled deeply at the book in his lap. While he was learning much about the mismatched twins, he didn’t feel any of it could be applied in a practical sense. Unless their vastly different upbringings had some bearing on their falling out later in life.

                Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ignis glanced at his companion. Gladio had fallen asleep in the chair twenty minutes ago and showed no signs of stirring anytime soon. It wasn’t typical behavior, but he couldn’t blame him. They were all exhausted. Even he was struggling to pay attention to his work.

                He realized he didn’t give Noctis enough credit for the energy he expelled during the day. In just two days, Ignis noticed how much faster he tired in Noctis’ body. He spent much of the day feeling lethargic, yet it had nothing to do with the amount of sleep he had or the food he ate. It seemed Noctis’ body simply burned off energy much faster than others.

                His fluctuating mood was another matter entirely. It was no wonder the man kept conversation to a minimum. There were a few times Ignis had to calculate his words carefully before speaking. He wasn’t used to feeling so melancholy and found himself struggling to behave normally. Noctis probably saw through him, but he didn’t want Prompto and Gladio knowing. _Especially_ not Gladio.

                Ignis knew, likely to Gladio’s chagrin, he would cater to the prince even more than he already did.

                _You know full well that won’t achieve anything._

                Thinking Gladio was awake, Ignis looked up to reply. Only Gladio was still sleeping, and Ignis hadn’t spoken aloud.

                _I know exactly what it is you wish of the young Prince, but you will never have it. Be cold or coddling, the choice is yours, but_ he _will never be._

Ignis’ stomach did a backflip at the words. Swallowing hard, he swiped at the sudden prickle of sweat on his forehead.

                _You know it’s rude to ignore someone when they speak to you, Mr. Scientia. Nothing good will come of this._

                Clenching his jaw, Ignis stubbornly stared at the book in his lap. He refused to acknowledge this ethereal voice, knowing it for what it was.

                _Well, if you won’t have a civil conversation with me, perhaps I’ll take a stroll in the dreams of Mr. Amicitia. Perhaps I’ll influence those dreams. Show him your true desires_.

                “No!”

                Ignis’ exclamation broke the odd atmosphere of the room and quieted his tormentor. At least for the moment. Gladio sat up with a snort, blinking bleary eyes as the door to the room crashed open. Jerking his head toward the door, his eyes flew wide when he saw Prompto carrying Noctis into the room.

                “What on Eos happened?” he demanded, voice sounding oddly panicked to his ears.

                Gladio was already up and alert, helping Prompto get Noctis onto a bed. “A fight?” he asked, brow furrowed as he grabbed Noctis’ chin and turned his face to get a better look at the man’s injury.

                Shaking himself out of his stupor, Ignis got up to close the door.

                “I happened,” Prompto mumbled, moving away from the bed to let Ignis and Gladio fuss over Noctis.

                “The hell’s that mean?” Gladio asked, flicking a glance at Prompto.

                Prompto bit his lip, watching Ignis get a potion from their bag. “I punched him,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around himself.

                “What?” snapped Gladio, glaring at Prompto as Ignis broke the potion over Noctis.

                Prompto flinched, sitting heavily on the opposite bed. “I wasn’t trying to hit him,” he answered, eyes downcast. “Your stupid body reacted to a threat without my input. Remember how I said she was in my head?”

                “Yes?”

                “She…was Noctis. I was seeing _her_ , speaking to _her_ , instead of Noct…This is getting bad, guys.”

                Ignis licked his lips. He couldn’t tell Prompto how right he was.

                On the bed, Noctis groaned. “Prompto…”

                “’M here,” he muttered.

                Rubbing his cheek, though there was no evidence of the massive bruise and cut left, Noctis sat up. His brow twitched as he opened his eyes. “You okay?” he asked, turning toward his boyfriend.

                Prompto’s head snapped up and his thick brows came together with a heavy crease. “Why’re you asking _me_ that?”

                Noctis frowned, ignoring Gladio and Ignis. “What d’ya mean _why_? I’m worried about you. You were terrified, having half of a conversation on your own.”

                “Eyoralin seems to be rather attached to him,” said Ignis.

                _She always did like an underdog. Probably because she was one._

                “How is she doing this?” Noctis turned to Ignis now, seeking answers.

                Sighing, Ignis got to his feet and crossed his arms. “All I have are theories and guesses, Highness.”

                “Then what’s your best guess?”

                “It’s a variation on the Confusion affliction,” he answered, moving back to his chair.

                _If that’s how your minds process this, then it is an acceptable conclusion. Though our abilities are much more complicated than anything you’re capable of comprehending._

                Turning his back on the others, Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose.

                “Oh yeah, that’d make sense. Seeing and hearing shit is common with Confusion,” Gladio answered with a nod. “If Eyoralin is getting in your head like this, you gotta learn the signs and be more careful. Can’t go around decking royalty,” he teased Prompto. “And stop making my face all blushy. It’s weird.”

                “I think your body is getting used to Prompto’s emotional scale,” Noctis scoffed, smirking.

                “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you, Noct.”

                Sighing, Noctis’ smirk softened, and he held his hand out to Prompto. “It wasn’t your fault.”

                Keeping his eyes down, Prompto didn’t budge.

                Noctis dropped his hand and took a deep breath. Licking his lips, he glanced at Ignis.

                “Gladio, shall we go find ingredients for dinner?” Ignis asked, heading for the door.

                Rolling his eyes, Gladio followed suit. “Yeah, sure.”

                _You’re only leaving because you don’t like seeing him show affection to others. It used to be all about you. Isn’t that right, Mr. Scientia? Even when you helped them realize their affections, it killed you inside. Your sense of duty will only take you so far._

                Huffing a breath through his nose, Ignis all but dragged Gladio from the room.

                “Hey! What the hell’s gotten into you?” the man demanded, hopping on one foot as he pulled his boot on.

                Stopping, Ignis waited for Gladio to fix his footwear. “What do you mean?

                “You’re coddling them again. They coulda talked with us in the room. It’s nothing we haven’t heard before.”

                _He’s right, you know. Mr. Amicitia is a smart man._

“I’m doing no such thing! What’s wrong with giving them privacy? Or would you prefer to sit there awkwardly while they discuss intimate details of their relationship?”

                Standing up straight, Gladio raised his brows at Ignis. “Why’re you so mad?”

                Ignis’ nostrils flared as he turned away from Gladio. “Maybe if you didn’t ask such idiotic questions, I wouldn’t be.”

                Gladio grabbed Ignis’ sleeve and yanked him around. He pushed the man against the wall and stepped up close. “Now I _know_ something’s up. Talk to me, Iggy.”

                “I have nothing to say,” he replied, staring directly into Gladio’s eyes.

                “Bullshit!” Gladio smacked his palm against the wall next to Ignis’ head. “Don’t lie to me, man. I don’t even know why you think it’s necessary.”

                _Listen to the substitute. Tell him you have a daemon in your head, just like Mr. Argentum. Yes, I am aware of my sister’s influence._

                Ignis clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Swallowing hard, he puffed out a breath and forced his body to relax. “Gladio.”

                “We can’t let things get at us like this,” Gladio said, standing up straight and dropping his hand to Ignis’ shoulder. “I don’t like seeing you this emotional.”

                “Gladio,” Ignis repeated, lifting his hands to slid across the man’s chest. _The narrow, slim chest belonging to Prompto,_ he reminded himself. “I love you.”

                Gladio’s jaw dropped, a half syllable stuck in his throat. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I love you, too,” he replied, brow twitching into a confused frown.

                Guilt clutched Ignis’ heart as he licked his lips and glanced up and down the hallway. He snuck his hands around Gladio’s torso and tugged him flush against his body. Dipping his head forward, he kissed Gladio’s jaw. “Remind me,” he whispered, drawing his earlobe between his teeth.

                “Remind you of what?” Gladio breathed, his own hands clutching Ignis’ hips.

                Ignis didn’t answer. He slipped his leg between Gladio’s as he scraped his teeth across the side of the man’s neck. He pressed his thigh against Gladio’s crotch and listened to the needy moan that escaped his lips.

                _Breaking your own rules won’t help you forget about him. All you’ll achieve here is his anger, touching his property._

                “You know we shouldn’t do this,” Gladio told him his hands sneaking beneath Ignis’ shirt.

                “Since when do you care about my rules?” Ignis grumbled, threading his fingers into soft blond hair.

                “Just reminding you in case you lost your damn mind,” replied Gladio, rolling his hips against Ignis’ leg.

                “I’m perfectly cognisant.”

                “Then I’ve got no problem continuing.”

                The voice in Ignis’ head sighed. _Very well. If you feel the need to put on this display to prove you have power over me, then by all means, continue. At least make it a good show._

Ignis clenched his teeth. _If you want a performance, I shall give you one._

                _Whatever you need to do to keep your conscience intact, Mr. Scientia._


	15. Heat of the Moment

                Noctis used to enjoy silence. He was content to be left alone for the most part because it meant he didn’t have to deal with the unpredictable emotions of others. When he was alone, there was no one playing fake nice to get what they wanted, nor were there people kissing his ass. It was easier. But it was a hell of a lot lonelier, too.

                When he started hanging out with Prompto, he began enjoying silence a little less. Prompto’s chatterbox nature and positivity kindled a spark inside him. It grew and grew until it was a full-blown inferno in his heart and silence was no longer desirable. Prompto was only quiet when he was sleeping, or when something was wrong, after all.

                Noctis no longer enjoyed silence.

                Sighing, Noct stood and switched beds, sitting back down next to Prompto. While he may not enjoy it like he once did, he also knew silence had its uses. Reaching out, he grabbed Prompto’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

                “I hate this,” Prompto eventually muttered, flopping onto his back. He kept Noctis’ hand in his and threw the other arm over his eyes. “It’s not supposed to be this hard to be with someone you love.”

                “It’s not hard. Tuudoh is making it that way,” answered Noctis. He fell backward onto the mattress next to Prompto. “We both know what’s going on, yet we keep acting like it's our faults. We _have_ to stop. This isn’t us, Prompto.”

                “I know, but…” Prompto swallowed hard, expecting an unsolicited opinion from Eyoralin. “She knows just what to say to freak me out.”

                Rolling onto his side, Noctis tucked himself against Prompto’s side. He pressed his forehead to the man’s bare, tattooed shoulder. “That’s because she’s in your mind, Prom. Of course she’s gonna say all the wrong things. But you _know_ that’s what she’s doing. And if I have another…dream, I’ll know it for what it is. She played on my guilt, and she’s using your insecurities.”

                “I don’t really get why you felt guilty. I have sex dreams all the time,” Prompto said with a shrug, letting his arm drop to the bed.

                “Because I’ve never had one that didn’t include you. And I _never_ told anyone how I felt about Gladio,” Noctis grumbled.

                “Oh…well then you might not be happy to hear I’ve had a few that didn’t include you,” Prompto muttered back.

                Curious, Noctis arched a brow and lifted his head to look at Prompto. “Oh? Do tell.”

                “Promise you won’t get jealous?”

                “I’m not really the jealous type.”

                An amused snort rushed from Prompto’s lungs. “What? You _so_ are, dude. Last time we were at Wiz’s, you got pouty because I was paying more attention to the chicks than you.”

                “Whatever. Just tell me.”

                “Well,” Prompto began with a nervous chuckle, “so, um, about a month ago, we were taking a break out at Galdin. I think we just came back from doing something for Dino. Anyway, you and Gladio went to the dock to catch something for dinner, so it was just me and Iggy at camp. He was getting ready for dinner and I was helping. Well, more like getting underfoot, because I tripped and dumped a pot of water on him. He pulled off his glasses and clicked his tongue in that way. Y’know, the way when he’s not mad, just mildly inconvenienced and a bit annoyed. Then he shrugged outta his suspenders, letting them hang at his sides while he took off his shirt. So, he’s, like, just standing there in his pants, his gloves still on as he runs his fingers through his hair, and—”

                “Okay, stop.”

                “It was _very_ naughty librarian, and it may have… _inspired_ a dream or three.”

                “Stop fantasizing about Ignis while I’m _right_ here.”

                Laughing, Prompto got up and leaned over Noctis, his eyes sparkling. “Well, to be fair—”

                “Nope! Stop. Shut up.”

                “You _are_ Ignis.”

                “That doesn’t make it better. In fact, it makes it worse!”

                Prompto gasped. “You’re blushing!”

                “’M not.”

                _How sweet._

                The humor vanished from Prompto’s face.

                _How nice of you to lie for his sake, to make him feel better about his subconscious cheating._ Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

                “You are,” Prompto replied stiffly, making a poor attempt at ignoring her.

                _You’re making this boring, Sunshine._

                Noctis’ brow twitched. “She’s back, isn’t she?”

                Prompto dipped his head in a shallow nod.

                “She’s not real, Prom. No matter what she says, what she shows you, she’s not real.”

                “I know, but—”

                “No _buts_. Ignore her. Let her scream and shout all she wants. I’m here and I’ve got you.”

                _Heh. Little Prince thinks I’m harmless, does he? That I’m just noise? I’ll show you I have just as much bite as I do bark._

                “Noct, she’s gonna do something. I don’t know what, but it won’t be good.” Prompto sat up, combing his fingers through his hair.

                “Like what? Tell you I don’t actually want you and this has all be a ruse?” Noctis asked, scowling as he sat up next to Prompto.

                “No…no, that’s the main chorus,” Prompto replied.

                Noctis grabbed the man’s arm. “What?”

                With a scoff, Prompto flicked a sidelong glance at Noctis. “She’s been telling me that since I first started hearing her. You don’t love me and would never have let me come along if you knew how useless I actually am. Blah, blah, blah, etcetera, etcetera.”

                “Why didn’t you tell me?” Noctis demanded.

                Scowling at his hands in his lap, Prompto pursed his lips in way of an answer.

                “Don’t tell me you _believed_ her? Prompto, you _know_ me. Would I ever do any of the stuff we do if I didn’t love you? I would never do that as a joke. I _love you_.” Noctis’ grip tightened on Prompto’s bicep and his usual awkward, wavering tone that revolved around the word _love_ , was absent.

                Prompto’s stomach flip-flopped at the words. Or perhaps it had something to do with the patter of cold drops on his face. The burn behind his eyes. The tremors in his hands. The thumping of his heart. The spinning room. His name sounding far away and underwater when Noctis called it…

                Prompto didn’t even fell his back hit the mattress as he toppled over. His eyelids slid shut like they were weighted, ice raced through his veins, and he passed out before he even had time to be scared or confused by what was happening.

 

***

 

                Rough breathing filled the tiny storage closet as Ignis panted through his open mouth. Arousal sang through every nerve ending in his body. He twisted one hand in Gladio’s temporary blond mop, cupping the side of his face with the other. His knees quivered, and if the wall wasn’t there to hold him up, he’d be in a heap on the floor right now.

                Gladio moaned around his length and peered up at him with lust-darkened periwinkle eyes. He swirled his tongue around the head of the cock in his mouth and tried not to think about how different it was from Ignis’. It was longer, but thinner, and though it tasted good to Prompto’s standards, Gladio found it a bit more bitter.

Drawing his head back, he slid his lips along the shaft, then pressed a kiss where it met his body. He continued to slip his hand up and down the hard length while dropping gentle kisses along Ignis’s abdomen. He missed the feeling of Ignis’ fine body hair against his nose and cheeks as he moved up toward his belly button again.

“So, how we doin’ this, Ig?” he asked, moving back to ghost his lips across the tip of the man’s cock. “I don’t know which way they go, and we’ve got no lube.”

                “Don’t care,” Ignis breathed, bringing a hand up to his mouth. He quickly licked his fingers before dropping the hand behind his back. His brow twitched, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he eased two fingers inside the tight ring of muscle. A desperate moan rumbled in his throat.

                Gladio breathed out a curse before grabbing Ignis’ hips and flipping him around. The man squeaked in surprise as he stumbled into the wall. Grabbing both of his ass cheeks, Gladio spread him wide and took a brief moment to admire the color of the puckering hole. Licking his lips, he dove in. An airy, high-pitched gasp escaped Ignis as Gladio’s tongue pushed inside him. The slick appendage wiggled inside, wetting the tight passage.

                Squeezing the flesh in his hands, Gladio opened his mouth wide, sliding his tongue in and out as he flicked the tip up and down. Pulling back briefly, he licked the hole and nipped at each cheek before delving back in. A constant string of quiet groans poured out of Ignis, punctuated occasionally by the patter of precum dripping to the floor.

                “Shit. You’re really likin’ this,” Gladio growled, plunging his fingers inside the man.

                “Feels…different,” Ignis moaned against the wall. His legs shook beneath him and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to hold himself up.

                “Better?” Gladio asked as he twisted his fingers and curled them against the walls of the muscled passage.

                Pressing his forehead against the wall, Ignis shook his head.

                “I wish I could make you this much of a mess,” muttered Gladio, already adding a third finger.

                Ignis hissed at the sting. He didn’t like that he was losing composure like this, and he hated the tone in Gladio’s voice. “You’ve barely had the chance to try!”

                Gladio bit down on his upper thigh, just below the curve of his left cheek. Not quite hard enough to break the skin, but more than enough to bruise.

                Ignis’ knees gave out.

                Grabbing the man’s hips, Gladio yanked Ignis backward and quickly freed his straining erection. Heat coursed through his body, part arousal, part anger. He wasn’t sure why he was so irritated, but it made him want to completely wreck Ignis. Not hurt him, just fuck him until he couldn’t remember his own name.

                Draping himself over Ignis’ back, he wrapped one arm around the man’s waist and positioned himself with his other hand. Ignis barely had time to relax before Gladio shoved his cock deep inside.

                Ignis grunted low and guttural. “Gladio, what—” The man jerked him back, tight against his hips as Ignis’ arms slipped out from under him. A burning sting radiated up his spine and he blinked away tears. He couldn’t seem to move from this undignified heap, backside in the air, face to the floor. His breathing was sharp but not panicked despite Gladio’s rough behavior. The man pulled out, then slammed back in, jerking Ignis back at the same time. He had no escape, no strength to even try.

                Folding an arm under his face, Ignis pressed his forehead to his forearm and whimpered into his chest. This was reminiscent of their less than spectacular first time; the impatience, the pleasure and pain combining and confusing his every nerve, the fear. This body craved every scrap of attention but rarely received it. That was Noctis, though; willing to give, never to take.

                Finally regaining some balance, Ignis reached behind him with his free hand, twisting his fingers in the denim of Gladio’s pants. “Gladio!” he grunted, feeling the hot drag inside him as the man thrust against his backside. “I know it’s been a while, but—” The rest of his words liquified into a pleasured groan as Gladio’s cock found just the right angle as it slid back in.

                The other man didn’t hear any of Ignis’ words as he moved against him. His painfully bony hips smacked rhythmically against an equally bony ass. This was all hot, sharp, and frantic. He was angry and still had no idea why, like someone took his heart and filled it with ice. His entire body screamed at him to come, to fulfill his own pleasure first and foremost.

                This wasn’t him, and he knew it. Yet he couldn’t stop himself.

                Squeezing Ignis’ hips with bruising force, Gladio continued to slam into the tight heat surrounding him. He was close now, and his goal was in sight. Ignis’ muscles clenched around him, aiding the friction already dragging against sensitive flesh.

                Breathing hard and fast, Gladio dug his fingers into Ignis’ skin and held the man’s ass tight to his hips as he finally came, fire and electricity shooting through his veins. His toes curled in his boots and sweat dripped down his sides. He filled Ignis, letting the man’s spasming muscles milk him for a while before pulling out.

                Panting, Gladio sat back against the shelving on the opposite wall and admired his work. Ignis remained where he was, face down on the floor, ass in the air. One hand worked between his legs, stroking his own cock in frantic motions as his hole twitched, come leaking out to roll in a thick ribbon down his thigh.

                Gladio licked his lips, watching with Prompto’s sharp eyes as Ignis worked himself to orgasm. What he didn’t see, after Ignis came hard and collapsed onto his side, was the shame and regret painting his flushed face.


	16. Welcome Home

                Prompto woke up aware, yet not. Scared. Alone in a place both familiar and not. He knew he was not himself and was only here to experience and observe with no control. He couldn’t move, his mind floating in the background of the person he had been forced upon. This person, distinctly feminine, like nothing he had ever experienced before. She had an untapped power inside her, locked away until someone could hand her the key. But who could that person be when she was invisible to those who passed her by?

                No one saw the sick, starving woman huddled in the corner with yesterday’s trash.

                The pain, physical, mental, spiritual, was so terrible, her entire body was numb. Her stomach screamed for food, and her sores howled for treatment. Even the poorest of the poor ignored her, hoping she would die. But she was stubborn, something inside keeping her amongst the living. Whether it was her own doing, or some cruel joke by the Astrals, she wasn’t entirely certain. Her body wanted rest, but a voice deep inside, soft, masculine, told her she needed to keep fighting.

                _How can I fight when I have nothing to fight for?_

“Oh, dear sister. What has this city done to you?”

                She lifted her head, weak, exhausted, to find a man standing before her. She had to be hallucinating, seeing this beautiful living mirror. This man had her face. Though it was healthier, more angular, it was _her_.

                He reached out with a gloved hand and she flinched.

                “Don’t worry, Love. I won’t hurt you.”

                She blinked sunken eyes at him, watching for any shift in his expression that would give away his intent. His eyes, the same white-blue as her own, held only concern and sincerity.

                Sensing her uncertainty had eased somewhat, the man brushed gloved fingertips over her cheek. The white fabric came away filthy with dried blood, pus from a broken sore, and months worth of dirt and oil.

                “How could such an advanced city leave you in such a state?” he sighed, shaking his head.

                She didn’t, couldn’t answer. It had been too long since she last used her voice and it refused to work any longer. The same could be said for much of her young body.

                “Can you stand? Move on your own at all?” he asked, holding out his hand.

                All she could do was blink at him again.

                “Ah,” he breathed, dropping his hand. “Even my unique skills won’t help you in this state. We’ll have to get you to the physicians at the Citadel. I’m sure His Majesty will allow it.” Smiling a brilliant, perfect smile, the man got to his feet and beckoned a pair of uniformed soldiers over.

                She watched with foggy, ill-focused eyes as they were given instructions. The man peeled off his gloves and tossed them into a pile of rubbish as he spoke. When he finished with the soldiers, he knelt before her again, sweet concern in his eyes. He studied her gaunt features for a moment before extending a bare hand toward her. Calloused fingers pressed against the space between her brows.

                “Rest now, Love. We’ll have you home soon.”

                A soft, fuzzy feeling spread through her body, making her eyelids droop. The pain eased, the hunger ebbed, and she slipped into her first peaceful slumber in years.

 

***

 

                “She’s your responsibility, Gelida.”

                “She’s not a pet, Commander.”

                “You found her in an alley like one might do with a stray.”

                “Nor is she a stray.”

                “Do you even know her name?”

                “Not yet. She was hardly alert enough to tell me, and she’s been asleep for the last week.”

                A heavy sigh. “Until she’s on her feet and passes her training, she’s _your_ responsibility.”

                An amused chuckle. “Yes, sir.”

                Heavy boots clicked on tile, fading away until a door closed.

                With a quiet murmur and a scrape of metal on the floor, the room fell silent again. She was awake, listening, but afraid to open her eyes. Her body seemed heavy, not quite numb, but not screaming in agony, either. The quiet was alarming. She had never known silence before. But…she felt safe. Wherever the man had taken her, she was safe.

                She chose to open her eyes.

                “Oh! Well, hello there!”

                Letting her head flop to the side, toward the voice, her eyes locked on the man who saved her. He looked different today, casual. His dark red hair fell in a mess of waves and random curls around his face, cut to a length that was just past his chin. Today, he hid his bright eyes behind a pair of thick-framed glasses that almost suited him, yet not quite. A snug, well-worn tank top, bright blue, showed off his lean muscles. He was shaped like an acrobat with strong, perfectly defined arms. Jeans that should probably have been thrown out years ago accentuated his narrow hips and muscled thighs.

                Her eyes came back up to his face, so strange in its familiarity. Three days of scruff covered his jaw, and she noticed a scar which had somehow missed her observation before. It was long, running across his face from under his left eye, across the bridge of his nose, and ending on his right earlobe. The scar was faded and white, long healed.

                The man studied her with wide, curious eyes for a moment before a big, cheerful grin brightened his features. “I was starting to wonder when you’d come around, Lovely. The whole Citadel has started calling you the Royal Alley Cat, y’know?” He laughed, rich and deep.

                She scowled at him.

                His cheeks flushed a brilliant pink. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry! Can you speak? The doc’s said your vocal cords were seized, but they managed to fix them right up with some magical help.”

                She stared blankly at him.

                “See,” he said, sitting forward I his chair and wagging a finger, “now you’re staying quiet out of sheer stubbornness. That, or you think I’m an idiot.”

                Unable to stop it, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

                Seeing the minute expression, the man’s eyes sparkled with glee. “Oh! A smile! How lovely.”

                “What on Eos is all this racket?”

                The smile vanished as her eyes flicked to the door, looking for the newcomer, a potential threat.

                “Oh, hey Pops. Look, she’s finally awake!” Turning in his chair, he addressed the newcomer. This man was tall, broad, solid, but gave off no sense of threat. His middle-aged face was grizzled but soft, fatherly and expressive. Thick, short black hair covered his head and greatly enhanced the green of his eyes.

                “I can see that, Tim. I can also see you couldn’t resist pestering her. She still needs time to recover, boy. The girl was a day from death when you found her.”

                “I know, I just…I have so many questions!”

                “And they can wait, you brat. Let the poor thing rest. Take your inquiring mind elsewhere.” Chuckling, he put a massive hand on the younger man’s head and ruffled his already disastrous hair.

                A rough, raspy giggle escaped her throat.

                The man nearly fell out of his chair in shock as his father directed a warm smile at her.

                “Pops, did you hear that?” the man—Tim?—gasped, grabbing his father’s arm.

                Rolling his eyes, the older man shook off his clingy son and moved to her bedside. Sitting on the edge, he took her hand in his and it looked like a doll’s in comparison. He regarded her with compassionate, sweet eyes.

                “What’s your name, Sweetheart? Think you can tell me?”

                Safe and comfortable with this bear-like man, she tried. Her name was not something she had heard aloud in years, and as she tried to get it out, she feared she had forgotten it. The first syllable was difficult, her throat hot and scratchy. It took long, arduous minutes and a full glass of water for her to voice her name. The men waited patiently, encouraging her with their kind expressions.

                “Eyoralin.”

                The older man’s eyes glittered with tears. “Beautiful.”

                Tim’s reaction was less refined, less dignified. He let out a yelp and practically threw himself at her, kissing her forehead.

                “Welcome to the family, Lyn.”


	17. Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope everyone had a Merry/Happy (whatever you celebrate), and a great New Years! I'm back from my vacation, and ready to get back at it! I've got bit things planned for this story, so I hope you stick around and enjoy! :D

                Taking long minutes to collect himself and force his expression back to neutral, Ignis finally sat up. He made a poor decision, and now he would have to live with the consequences. Both physical and mental. Getting back to the room to clean himself up would be a challenge in its own right.

                Ignoring the itch of fluid dribbling down his thigh, Ignis pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away what he could. A full shower was certainly in order.

                Cleaned up as best he could, Ignis readjusted his clothes and finally turned toward Gladio. He had every intention of apologizing for his reckless, shameful behavior, but what he saw caught him off-guard. No, off-guard was too mild for what he felt. His stomach twisted in terrified knots and all sense of decorum abandoned him as he twisted his hands in the man’s pant legs.

                “Gladio, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” He searched the man’s face, trying to make sense of this. Pain contorted Gladio’s features as tears tracked down his cheeks. He stared down at the floor, his irises quivering. Ignis swore he could hear the panicked thump of the man’s heart.

                “Why?” Gladio mumbled, eyes blurred by tears.

                “Why what?” Ignis coaxed as he brushed his fingers across the man’s arms.

                “Why didn’t you tell me?” Gladio’s eyes were wide, full of hurt as he met Ignis’ gaze. “That you’re in love with him?”

                Ignis’ entire world fell out from under him. There was no playing innocent here; he knew exactly what Gladio spoke of.

                “Have I always been a substitute?” he now asked, angrily swiping his hand across his eyes.

                “You are nothing of the sort,” Ignis stated, somehow keeping his voice even. “And my love for Noctis is not what you seem to be implying.”

                “No?” Gladio laughed humorlessly.

                “No. He is my friend.”

                “So am I. Or does that not matter anymore?”

                Ignis frowned. “Gladio, what has gotten into you? You _are_ my friend. My lover. My _everything_.”

                Tears continued to spill silently down Gladio’s cheeks. “Hmph. Right.”

                Ignis’ chest ached at Gladio’s expression. He could be open, honest, tell the man exactly what was going on in his heart, or he could try and smooth this over with lies.

                “I wanna believe you, Ignis. I really do, but I can’t. Not after what he showed me.”

                “Who?”

                _Me_.

                “Timorea.”

                _My friends call me Tim. Or Rea. My enemies call me Blood Frost._

                Releasing Gladio, Ignis sat back on his heels, sighing.

                _And my sister was called Blood Sword._

                “Gladio, please. Won’t you believe me over the bitter spirit of a wronged man?” he asked, studying the man’s face.

                _Bitter? A little rude, don’t you think, Mr. Scientia?_

                Gladio refused to meet Ignis’ eye.

                In Ignis’ head, Timorea sighed his exasperation rather loudly. _Here I thought you two would be more entertaining. How dull. What do I have to do to get reactions out of you? Show you both what could have been?_

                “You showed me enough already,” Gladio growled, sounding almost like himself despite Prompto’s higher voice.

                Ignis’ brow twitched. “You can hear him?”

                “Hear him?” Gladio asked, wrinkling his nose. “I can see the bastard.”

                “What?” Following Gladio’s line of sight, Ignis looked over his shoulder. In the corner of the room, a pleasant smile on his face, stood Timorea Gelida.

                “Hello, dears,” he greeted, grinning.

                The blue-white flash of the armiger was blinding in the small closet.

                One heavy red brow crept upward as Timorea blinked down the tip of Noctis’ blade. “You realize I’m non-corporeal, and therefore will not be affected by your little pig sticker there?”

                Ignis thrust the weapon forward, the blade slicing through the air to stick into the wall.

                “How uncouth, Mr. Scientia! Would you kindly control your weapon-happy man, Mr. Amicitia?” Eyes wide, the man regarded the weapon currently occupying the space where his nose should have been.

                Climbing to his feet to stand next to Ignis, Gladio glared up at the man.

                “Oh, honestly!” he huffed, rolling his eyes, “I am no physical threat in this form, you idiots. Kindly remove your sword from my face.”

                “After all the heartache and discord you’ve caused amongst us, I will do you no favors,” Ignis growled back, sparks of power radiating through his body.

                Clicking his tongue, Timorea folded his arms and shifted from one foot to the other. “Is the Crownsguard so sensitive nowadays that a little mischief makes them mistrustful?”

                “Mischief?” snapped Gladio. “You think that’s what you’re doing? Causing _mischief‽_ ”

                Timorea’s blue-white eyes narrowed dangerously, the scar running across his face wrinkling as distaste crinkled the bridge of his nose. “I am showing you, Mr. Amicitia, the truth. My mischief is toward Mr. Scientia. This devoted young man, who, like yourself, would throw himself on a blade for his prince. Though he would do this for reasons entirely different than your noble intentions, Shield. He would do it to gain favor, to have Prince Noctis look only at him, if only for a moment. Like old times, right? Remember how he would come to you with every problem, no matter how small, and you became his _hero_ whenever you solved the issue. But alas, he grew out of that, didn’t he? He doesn’t need you any longer.”

                Electricity crackled in the air. “Quiet.”

                Mock concern washed over Timorea’s features. “Oh, hit a nerve, have I?”

                “Iggy, calm down,” Gladio warned, putting a hand on his arm.

                “You think gentle words will help after I dealt such a blow to his fragile ego and destroyed his pride as Prince Noctis’ first real friend? A friendship rife with twisted affections and jealousy.”

                “Enough!”

                Pink electricity crackled in the air of the storage closet, sparking from Ignis. His weapon vanished, and he clenched his hand in a tight fist, calling on powers he didn’t understand.

                “Iggy!” Lunging at Ignis’ back, Gladio wrapped one arm around his waist and put his other hand over the man’s eyes. Ignis struggled and they stumbled backward, falling into the shelving unit. Timorea stared, one brow arched ever-so-slightly.

                “Calm the hell down!” growled Gladio, lips against Ignis’ ear. “You can’t do anything to him, anyway.”

                Though it wasn’t Gladio’s voice, Ignis heard the deep, velvety tones in his ear. The words filled his head, calming him, dispelling the buildup of power inside him. The heat and anger drained from his body and he sagged against Gladio’s chest. Exhaustion washed over him, and he leaned his head forward against the warm hand covering his eyes. His own hands quaked as he held onto Gladio’s arm.

                “It’s not worth it.”

                “Anything’s worth it if it means you won’t stop loving me,” Ignis mumbled, so quiet Gladio almost didn’t hear him. The words were awkward and heavy on his tongue, but as strange as it seemed to speak them, it was the truth.

                The arm around his waist squeezed. “I wouldn’t—”

                “Boring! Go back to the show you were giving me before. I _liked_ that one.”

                “I just want the truth, Ig. _Your_ truth. Not his,” Gladio muttered, pressing his forehead to Ignis’ shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

                Ignis’ heart broke at those words. “Why are you doing this?” he asked Timorea, raising his head though Gladio kept his eyes covered. “What do you get out of our pain?”

                “Hmm,” Timorea chuckled, “besides amusement, you mean? Spending years in the darkness with a person you’ve grown to detest can be quite tiresome. However, I do gain something. But if I told you what that was, it would no longer be fun!” Timorea’s face split into a nasty grin, his skin and eyes darkening. The whites of his eyes turned black, the irises remaining a disturbing shade of blue. Daemon stain tracked down his face, leaving uneven stripes over his cheeks and chin. “And we _will_ have more fun, my dear, sweet boys.”

                Gladio grimaced as Timorea melted into the floor in a flurry of black and purple tendrils. Like a common daemon.

                “Gladio, what happened?” Ignis asked, reaching up to gently pull the man’s hand away from his face.

                “He kinda…oozed, then he left,” Gladio replied, releasing Ignis and stepping away. “Ignis, we need to talk.”

                “Yes, I believe we do,” he sighed in response. “Shall we find somewhere more comfortable to have our conversation?”

                “Wanna clean up first?”

                Ignis briefly contemplated his state and shook his head. “I’ll be alright. Thank you.”

                Gladio nodded, a small gesture as he scratched the back of his head. Awkwardly trailing behind as Ignis let them out of their little hideaway and took them someplace to talk, Gladio felt his mortification deep in his bones. The things Timorea chose to show him hurt. Cut him so deep, it sliced his heart in half. Made him weep. He wanted to blame the tears on Prompto’s prone-to-emotion body, but he knew it had nothing to do with that. Thinking Ignis never truly wanted him, was using him in Noct’s stead, _hurt_.

                A tiny sigh escaped Ignis’ lips as they descended the stairs. “You okay?” Gladio whispered, placing his hand on Ignis’ back.

                “A bit tender, but intact,” Ignis muttered, keeping his eyes low as they passed the front desk. He fell silent again as they walked by the tables out front, and around the corner of the building. This time of day, it was starting to get a little livelier around town, but the nook toward the back remained deserted. Ignis leaned against the last pillar in line, his back to the fountain. Gladio stood before him.

                “Ignis. I’m so, so sorry. For doing what I did…for not believing you…for everything. I’m sorry.”

                Swallowing thickly, Ignis shook his head. “No, this is Timorea’s doing. All of it. However, I have not been completely honest with you regarding…His Highness.”

                Gladio dipped his head in a tiny nod, afraid of what he was about to hear.

                “At one point, I…” Ignis scowled, crossing his arms and staring at the ground. “I will admit, ashamedly, I may have had some attachment issues. As Noctis grew, and we spent less time together, I found it difficult to see him with others. See him happy with others. It was a phase I quickly outgrew, but am no less embarrassed by. In this world, there are precious few things I am able to call my own, and as a child, I considered him to be one of those things. He was _my_ charge. _My_ responsibility. _My friend_.”

                “He’s still all those things,” Gladio reminded him, unsure how else to respond to the confession.

                “I know that, and as I said, I outgrew my jealousy. I never _once_ found myself attracted to him if that’s your fear. You are the only man, the only _person_ who fills such a role. This is the truth. Whether you believe me or not is your choice.”

                Gladio huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like a piece of shit,” he grumbled. “Gelida not only messed with my thoughts but my emotions as well. The whole time we were doing it, I was mad. Pissed as hell and didn’t know why. After, I had these images in my head of you two…Dammit, just thinking about it makes me angry. Everything I was told was so convincing, I just went with it. I’m such an idiot!”

                “Gladio, I don’t blame you. He took the truth and twisted it for his own gain. The magic Tuudoh uses on us, both separately and combined, is powerful and foreign. We have no defense against it other than our own common sense. Question everything, judge what is real and what isn’t.” Ignis finally lifted his head, his eyes meeting Gladio’s. “He wants us to eye one another with suspicion and guilt for whatever reason.”

                Gladio stepped forward, gently drawing Ignis against his chest. The man held himself stiffly at first but soon relaxed. “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Iggy. What I did…”

                “Gladio, you needn’t apologize. Yes, you were a little rough, but it felt no worse than the first time. The act itself was not a problem, and much needed. The problem lies with me. I violated Noctis’ body. This was a gross breach of trust and I feel disgusting for doing it.”

                “I feel pretty damn weird about it, too, but what’s done is done. It hasn’t been a good, or smart, couple days for us, but we’ll get through it. We just have to stop being impulsive and remember how to think critically,” Gladio told him.

                “I know, though it seems to be getting more difficult as time passes.”

                “Could the magic be getting stronger as time passes? I mean, we are actually _seeing_ things now.”

                Ignis puffed out a breath, heating a patch of skin on Gladio’s shoulder. “Perhaps, but that would be highly unusual.  Magic tends to weaken over time, not strengthen. I’m so tired of thinking in circles, Gladio.”

                “I know, babe.” Hugging Ignis tight, Gladio noticed how much he missed his own body in this moment. He wanted to put his chin on Ignis’ head, completely encapsulate him in an embrace. “And just so you know, even if you hated me with every fiber of yourself, I don’t think I could ever stop loving you. I’ve felt this way too long to stop now.”

                Ignis chuckled. “You never were a quitter.”

                “And neither are you.”

                “Just…please don’t let him influence your heart anymore,” Ignis mumbled.

                “Y’know, I’m used to seeing Noct’s cheeks all pink like this, but there something special ‘bout it because it’s you,” Gladio said, leaning back to smile at the man.

                Lips turned down in a pout, Ignis rolled his eyes. “Noctis’ emotions show on his face far too easily.”

                With a grin, Gladio stretched to kiss Ignis’ forehead. He knew better than to say it was refreshing. Though he thought it was pretty easy to tell Ignis’ mood as well, even if he didn’t get flushed and pouty often, if at all.

                “I don’t ever want to see that expression on your face again, nor be the cause.”

                Sobering, Gladio cupped Ignis’ cheeks. Saying sorry again felt empty. “It was unfair of me. But that’s how strongly you affect me, Iggy.”

                Ignis could only manage a half-nod. “You’re an amazing man, Gladiolus.”

                “Hm. I think that’s my line.”

                An abrupt smile brightened Ignis’ face as he lifted a hand to pinch Gladio’s chin. “I think I prefer that look on _your_ face.”

                “Ditto.”

                Putting their foreheads together, they laughed softly and smiled widely.

                “Let’s go check on the others, shall we? Perhaps they’ve settled their newest misunderstanding as well.”

                “Sounds like a plan, babe.”


	18. Hidden Talents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of bros in this chapter. There are going to be a few coming that are very similar, as I need to tell Eyoralin and Timoreas' stories to further the plot.

                “I don’t like it.”

                “Why not? You don’t think I look professional?” laughed Timorea, slicking his hair away from his face.

                “No, I think you look ridiculous,” Eyoralin replied, twisting her own long red hair into a complicated style of braids.

                “A week talking, and you certainly aren’t shy about voicing your opinions, Lyn.”

                She smirked at him and nudged him away from the bathroom mirror. “Yes, well I _am_ your sister, after all. Not hard to tell by looking, but I’ve yet to ask how you found me.”

                “I’ll answer all of your questions, dear sister, once you’re stronger,” he replied, reaching over and tugging on a loose tendril of hair.

                Sliding some pins into her twists and knots, Eyoralin frowned at Timorea. “How much stronger do you expect me to get, Scruffy? Between medicine, the food, and the weird potions I’ve been instructed to break over my chest daily, I feel stronger than I ever have. I’m healthy again, thanks to you.”

                “Maybe so, but you need to start slow. Just being up and moving is a miracle after the state of your muscles. You were skin and bones, my sweet girl.” Patting her cheek, he returned his attention to the mirror to slather shaving cream on his jaw.

                Huffing out a breath, Eyoralin finished fastening her hair and crossed her arms. “You needn’t baby me, brother.”

                Sighing, Timorea stopped and faced the woman. “I’ll stop once you can lay me out on my back in training,” he told her. “So train up, take care of yourself, and maybe in a decade or two, you can.”

                “A decade or two?” she laughed. “With this much help, I’ll be able to do it in _six months_.”

                Timorea choked back a guffaw. “Six months? You think so, do you? Well, don’t overdo it/| Grinning, he kissed her cheek, leaving a smear of white cream on her face.

                Swiping it away, she clicked her tongue and stomped out of the small bathroom. Her brother’s laugh followed.

                _I will do it in six months, just you watch. I may not know anything right now, but I’ll learn. I’ve learned how to be human again in just one week. Imagine the strides I can make in half a year._

                Sighing to herself, Eyoralin sat down on the sofa, comfortable in its age, and waited. She had so many questions about her new life, her new family, but no one was willing to answer. It was true she was similar to a toddler learning to walk, but her mind was sharp as ever. She had never lost that, even at her lowest, she was always able to think. Though her thoughts were dark, sluggish from days, months, _years_ of suffering, they were coherent.

                _When you’re stronger_ , they told her. Timorea, Mr. Gelida, the Citadel physicians, everyone. After being immobile, dying in the street, she felt superhuman in her strength. She was still stick-thin and could barely stand for half an hour without resting, but she didn’t need anyone knowing that.

                A few minutes later, her brother entered the living room. The scruff on his face was gone, his glasses were gone, and his messy hair had been drawn back into a barely restrained ponytail. Black leather pants covered his legs, knee-high, buckled boots on his feet, a chunky belt around his hips, and a simple black tee-shirt with a skull motif covered his torso.

                “That’s your uniform?” Eyoralin questioned, one brow arched.

                Smirking, Timorea turned, showing off the patterning on the back of his shirt. A large silver skull and crossbones between his shoulders with consistently smaller replicas trailing down toward his hip. “Pretty spiffy, right? Designed it m’self.”

                Eyoralin blinked at him. “Probably a good thing you didn’t go into fashion.”

                “Ouch.” He winced comically before crossing the room to the closet. Pulling open the door, he tugged his coat off the hanger. Swinging it around his shoulders, he put it on with a flourish. The double-breasted jacket fell to mid-thigh, flat black with bright blue collar and lapels, buttons in the shapes of skulls, and a split tail in the back which fell a touch longer than the rest of the hem. It was fitted at the waist with two more large skull buttons on the back. The sleeves hung to his knuckles, the cuffs the same blue as the collar, with another pair of skulls on each.

                “I like the coat. Doesn’t really go with your hair, though,” she told him as he closed the door.

                “Goes with my skill set though, dear.”

                “And what, pray tell, are your skills? Besides sass and sarcasm?”

                “Have I not told you?”

                “Timorea, you didn’t even tell me your name until four days ago. Your mind is so scattered, I doubt you ever would have had I not asked Mr. Gelida.”

                He waved his hand, trying to distract her from the tinge of pink coloring her cheeks. “Pff, Mr. Gelida. Just call him Pops like I do. And I’m so used to everyone knowing my name, it slipped my mind to formally introduce myself. You don’t have to use my full, stuffy name either. One of my many nicknames is perfectly fine,” he explained to her, picking up the boots he purchased for her.

                “You didn’t answer my question,” she said, accepting the footwear. Staring expectantly at him, she slipped her feet into the knee-high red leather boots.

                Licking his lips, he smiled softly and raised his hands, cupped together like he was holding a small critter inside. “I was born with a gift, one which has placed me in great favor with King Mors.”

                “You can hold your own hand?” she teased, smoothing a wrinkle in her black leggings.

                “Your tongue is nearly as scathing as mine, love. Just be quiet a moment and watch.” Rolling his eyes, he slowly parted his hands and knelt before his sister. In his palm rest a tiny contained flurry. A compressed snowstorm, shiny with ice crystals, swirled in his cupped hand.

                Eyoralin’s eyes grew wide. “Magic? I thought only the royal family could control the elements!” she whispered in awe. Reaching out with trembling fingers, cold washed over her hand, radiating from the spell.

                “Typically, yes. No one knows why I have this ability. I was never blessed by the King, and my magical talents are limited to ice and minor healing,” he explained to her, dispelling the ice and extending a hand toward her. He placed two fingers between her brows and blinked slowly.

                A rush of warmth and a minor surge of power tingled through Eyoralin’s body. She sighed.

                “That should keep you through the afternoon. Your legs won’t tire for some time.”

                “Thank you.”

                “You’re welcome, dear.” Patting her knee, he stood once again. “I need you fit as a fiddle for your visit to the Citadel. I’m back to work today, and I want you to come along.”

                “Do you, now?”

                “To see what you’re up against when you’re deemed healthy enough to join us.”

                Eyoralin tipped her head. “Join you?”

                “The Guard. You’ll be joining the Crownsguard.”

                “What?” she gasped, brow twitching into a frown.

                “Think about it,” he replied, moving back to the closet, “You and I are siblings, right? As you said, not hard to tell by looking. I’ve got these fantastical abilities, so it stands to reason you must have some as well, right? Enlisting you in the Guard will help you discover them!”

                “Timorea, as far as I know, in my entire seventeen years I have not shown any signs of having magic,” she grumbled at him, standing up to accept the hand-me-down coat she had been using. Mr. Gelida promised to take her shopping for new clothes once she put a little weight on her bones.

                “Doesn’t mean the talents aren’t there, dear girl. We’ll find something, Sweetpea.”

                “I’m just an alley cat,” she reminded him, shaking her head.

                “On the contrary, m’dear. You’re a coeurl who was never taught to use her whiskers.” With a wink and a bow, he extended his hand toward her.

                “You’re a charmer,” Eyoralin sighed, walking past him and delivering a solid smack between his shoulder blades.

                “And you’re blunt as can be. We’ll make a dangerous pair, sister.”

                “Try and keep up.”

 

***

 

                My life had taken an abrupt about-face. From a nobody people wouldn’t blink twice at, to a respected, though yet unofficial member of the King’s Crownsguard. Much like yourself, yes? Picked up off the street due to a stroke of dumb luck.

                _I am official. I was asked by Noct—_

Not my point, Sunshine. You were nothing until the Prince. I was nothing until my brother. My life went from hell on Eos to paradise. Three years passed before that all came crashing down around us. I’m going to show you, make you suffer through the pain I felt, to drill it into your stupid little brain that people are never what they seem.

                _My friends are! Noctis, Ignis, Gladio…they’re all honest, amazing, loyal friends. We stick together no matter what._

                My brother, the charmer, has his claws in them. No one stays loyal for long with him messing about.

                _You don’t know them like I do._

                They’re all the same! They work for themselves, screw everyone else! It’s always been the same, from the beginning of time. It happens again and again and again. You trust someone, and they betray you. You love someone, and you lose them. The nobody is never the hero.

                _That’s not true, Eyoralin._

                You know nothing! I have lived and died, reborn again through centuries of horror!

                _…Centuries?_

                We are undying! Cursed by the Astrals to suffer over and over again simply for existing! No more questions. Just watch. And suffer with me.


	19. Clouded Minds

                Gladio wasn’t sure how many more shocks to his heart he could handle today. As soon as they opened the door to their room, his stomach did a flip, then lodged in his throat. On the far bed, Prompto lay stretched out and unconscious. Sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed was Noctis, his hair disheveled from running his fingers through it. His glasses had been carelessly tossed on the table nearby. He didn’t raise his head as they entered the room, but just from his profile, they could see how red his eyes were.

                “Noct? What happened?” Ignis asked, rushing to the man’s side. He quickly checked the Prince over before perching on the bed next to Prompto.

                Gladio couldn’t look at his friend; seeing his own body knocked out like that made him break out in a cold sweat. But seeing the kid like this with no visible injuries put a sour taste in his mouth as well.

                “I—I don’t know,” Noctis mumbled, raking his hands through his hair again.

                “What d’ya mean you don’t know?” Gladio asked, rising a glance over his shoulder.

                “Exactly what I said, Gladio,” Noctis snapped, shooting a glare up at the man. “I don’t know what happened! We were talking, and he passed out.”

                “That simply?” Ignis asked, putting a hand on Prompto’s forehead. “He showed no other symptoms?”

                Noctis shook his head. “Nothing. He just kinda…tipped over. This has got to be her fault. Or their fault. Or whatever the hell’s going on!”

                “I don’t doubt it is, Noctis. But we must remain calm. We’ve all had enough hatred and heartache to last us a lifetime.”

                “How can you say that to me when it’s _my_ boyfriend laying there? I know full well what we need to do. We need to find and kill Tuudoh!”

                “Of course we do, Highness, but at the moment it is not so simple. We still aren’t entirely sure what we’re up against.”

                Gladio grit his teeth as he watched the pair.

                “I don’t care! I want this done _now_.”

                “Noctis, you know it is unwise to rush into battle with no knowledge of the opponent,” Ignis replied through clenched teeth.

                “We’ve killed tons of daemons without knowing anything!”

                “This is entirely different, and you know that.”

                “Enough!” Gladio barked, drawing their attention. “Listen to yourselves. This is exactly what we’re trying to avoid, remember? Yes, this is bad, and I feel for you Noct. Honestly. But get your head outta your ass and _think_ for a minute. Running into a fight got us into this mess, and doing it again will get us killed. Prompto’s not sick, he’s just knocked out, and she’ll have to release him sooner or later. No daemon has magic that lasts forever.”

                “You wouldn’t be so calm if it was Specs lying there!”

                Gladio growled low in his throat. “Not the point.”

                Noctis shot to his feet and took a step toward Gladio. “You don’t get to tell me how to feel right now,” he whispered harshly.

                Brow twitching Gladio took a half-step back, thrown off by Noctis’ attitude and having to look up at someone. “Feel however the hell you want, but don’t let it cloud your judgment,” he hissed back, jabbing Noctis in the chest with his index finger.

                Noctis shoved him back, knocking him off balance. Gladio’s legs hit the low table and he stumbled, falling backward. His arms pinwheeled as he crashed hard to the floor.

                “Highness!” snapped Ignis. “What on Eos?” Eyes narrow, he looked at the men but didn’t leave Prompto’s side.

                “You have _no idea_ what we’ve been going through!” Noctis shouted, ignoring Ignis. He stepped up to Gladio, looming over him. “You try keeping your mind clear when the love of your life thinks you’ve been using him.”

                Noctis didn’t notice the glance Gladio tossed at Ignis.

                “I have put him through so much, I can’t possibly keep my head clear, Gladio! When _you’re_ filled with guilt, having your thoughts manipulated, _your dreams_ , you come tell me again to keep my head clear.” Hands clenched at his sides, Noctis turned away and went to sit on Prompto’s other side.

                Biting his lip to keep from shouting back, Gladio climbed to his feet.

                “Forgive me for saying this, but you are out of line, Highness.” Ignis sat up straight, lifting his eyes to stare at Noctis. He let his hand linger on Prompto’s forehead. “You are not the only one being tormented by Tuudoh. Gladio and I fell victim to Timorea earlier today. Shown visions, told lies, nearly had our relationship destroyed, the same as you and Prompto. This is not a selective daemon, Noct.”

                Gritting his teeth, Noct looked away as he threaded his fingers with Prompto’s. A light blush colored his cheeks.

                Back on his feet, Gladio stood at the foot of the bed and crossed his arms. “It’s not always about you,” he grumbled softly.

                Noctis sighed, his brow creased heavily. He licked his lips and squeezed Prompto’s hand. “Is there anything else we can learn about them?” he mumbled.

                Ignis smoothed his hand over Prompto’s hair. “I never finished reading the book.”

                “But that tells us about the people, not the daemon,” Gladio pointed out.

                “We can learn about what they’ve become by studying what they were,” Noctis muttered, flicking a dark glance at Ignis.

                Taking the cue, Ignis moved his hand. “How astute of you, Highness.”

                A muscle twitched in his jaw as he turned his gaze toward Gladio. “Sorry,” he whispered.

                Gladio grunted his response.

                “I hate to say this, Highness, but we need sleep before we can continue anything. I’m not fond of leaving Prompto in this state either, but I don’t see what we can do,” said Ignis.

                “What about a Remedy?” Gladio suggested.

                Ignis sighed. “We can try, but I don’t see it doing any good.”

                Noctis pulled an item from his armiger. “Even if it has less than one percent chance of working, I’ll try it. A chance is a chance, after all.” Inhaling a deep, somewhat shaky breath, Noctis crushed the vial over Prompto’s chest. They waited a few seconds, watching with baited breath, but as Ignis predicted, nothing happened.

                Noctis sagged, bending over Prompto and pressing his forehead to the man’s shoulder. He mumbled something neither Gladio or Ignis could hear.

                “I promise we’ll figure this out, Noct,” Ignis assured, setting a gentle, comforting hand on his back.

                “Why is it always Prompto who suffers the brunt of everything?” Noctis asked, raising his muffled voice just enough to be heard. “He’s not weak and he’s not unwanted. He’s my…” Noctis swallowed hard, turning his head so the others couldn’t see the moisture in his eyes.

                Brow creased, Ignis raised his head to meet Gladio’s gaze. A matching expression of sympathy showed on his face, perhaps clearer with Prompto’s features than it would have been on his own. He let out a soft sigh and rubbed Noctis’ back before sitting up straight. Reluctantly, he left Noctis and Prompto on the bed and stood. Turning to Gladio, he gently put his hand on the man’s elbow and steered him toward the bathroom.

                “He’s a mess,” Gladio whispered, glancing back over his shoulder before pulling the bathroom door closed.

                “Can you blame him?” Ignis asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the sink.

                Gladio shook his head. “I hope there’s something valuable in that book because we’ve got literally nothing else to go on.”

                “You think I don’t know that Gladio?” snipped Ignis, narrowing his eyes. “I’d rather not be stuck like this any longer either, and I’m trying my best.”

                “I know, Iggy.” Sucking his lip between his teeth, Gladio put a hand on Ignis’ bicep. “We’ll be back to normal before you know it, babe.”

                Exhaling slowly, Ignis closed his eyes. “That word just doesn’t have the same ring to it in Prompto’s voice,” he muttered.

                “What word? Babe?” laughed Gladio as he quirked a brow.

                Unfolding his arms, Ignis grabbed the sides of Gladio’s vest and tugged him close. “It sounds much nicer in your deep, husky tones. I can hardly wait until I have you back, whispering in my ear, your beard tickling my jaw.” With a slow blink, Ignis licked his lips and rolled his hips against Gladio’s.

                Gladio draped his arms over Ignis’ shoulders, grinning. “What’s gotten into you today? Making the first move not once, but twice in one day? And not even in your own body. How bold.”

                “All this stress, and perhaps the knowledge I shouldn’t be doing this, is spurring me on.”

                “Ooh, naughty.”

                “Although, I’m not sure if this is a reaction of mine, or it Noctis has a side only Prompto knows.”

                Tugging Ignis’s head forward, Gladio propped his forehead against his boyfriend’s. “I dunno…do you normally get horny when you’re stressed?”

                “Well…no. However, I want to touch you more when I am unable to do so.” A light flush colored his cheeks.

                Gladio’s lips curved into a smirk as he brushed them over the tip of Ignis’ nose. “I appreciate it, Ig, but you know as well as me we can’t do anything else. We already overstepped some serious lines, and that body needs to rest. And you still have to shower.”

                Ignis sighed. “I know. Well, let me help you remove those lenses again before I have my shower.”

                “Sounds good, babe.”

                Ignis’ lips twitched at the nickname.

                Without much wincing, Gladio let Ignis remove the contact lenses, then left to give him privacy. When he closed the bathroom door, he turned his attention back to the pair on the bed. Noctis still sat in that awkward, slumped position, and was snoring softly.

                “That’s not good for your back, man,” mumbled Gladio, crossing the room. Shaking his head, he hoisted Noctis’ legs onto the bed and rolled him over so he was tucked snugly against Prompto’s side. It was a position he and Ignis found themselves in often, so he knew they would be comfortable.

                Tugging the blanket off the other bed, he threw it over them, tucking it in around Noct’s back and Prompto’s arm. It reminded him of when he used to tuck Ignis in years ago. Giving the younger man who currently inhabited his boyfriend’s body a gentle pat on the hip, Gladio said good night.

                Flopping down on the other bed, Gladio kicked off his boots and pulled the sheet over his body. He folded his arms behind his head and listened to the hiss of water in the bathroom. A clunk of pipes punctuated the end of Ignis’ shower and Gladio only had to wait a few minutes for him to immerge from the bathroom.

                “Feel better?” Gladio asked as the man sat down on the foot of the bed. His eyes roamed across Ignis’ bare torso, the lean, if not ropey musculature more evident with the shine of moisture on his skin.

                “Physically, yes,” Ignis answered, scrubbing the towel over his head.

                Gladio sat up and ghosted his fingertips over a bite mark on the man’s shoulder blade. “Shit, did I do this?”

                Dropping the towel into his lap, Ignis shook his head. “No, that’s an old mark.”

                “Prompto’s vicious.”

                “Agreed, but I promised Noctis we would not discuss any marks found on the other’s body,” Ignis answered, putting his hand over Gladio’s.

                “Fair enough.” Gladio kissed Ignis’ shoulder. “You going to bed right now, or are you gonna stay up for a bit?”

                “It’s been a long day. Sleep beckons,” Ignis answered.

                “Sounds good. Big spoon or little spoon?” Chuckling, Gladio pushed the man’s rapidly drying hair away from his forehead.

                Ignis hummed. “Little.” Tossing his towel over the back of a chair, Ignis climbed under the sheet next to Gladio. Settling in on his side, he pulled the other man’s arm around his waist and shuffled over until he was snug against Gladio’s chest. A content sigh passed through his lips and he closed his eyes.

                He needed to redouble his research efforts in the morning, sleep deprived or not. Though he knew, even with his plagued mind, having Gladio at his back would help him rest easier.


	20. Once, There was Happiness

                Eyes narrow, Eyoralin glared up at Timorea. Her chest heaved with panting breaths and sweat collected between her breasts, which had filled out nicely after she gained some weight. Her muscles quivered from exertion.

                “At my mercy yet again, dear sister,” chuckled Timorea, breathing only slightly more controlled than Eyoralin’s.

                Wrinkling her nose, she swatted away the foil pointed at her chest.

                “Our bet is not leaning in your favor, Lovely.” Timorea stepped back and extended a hand to help her up.

                “I still have two months to best you,” she growled, ignoring the offered hand in favor of laying static on the mat.

                Laughing softly, Timorea waved at her and wandered off to join a cluster of young men on the other side of the room.

                Nostrils flaring, Eyoralin stared up at the ceiling and focused on her breathing. She was angry with herself and Timorea. She had been so damn close to winning, but he knocked her on her ass and jabbed the fencing foil against her sternum. Though in her mind, even if she had won, it still wouldn’t have won her the bet. She needed to dominate him in hand-to-hand combat only. Two months left, but she had confidence in her abilities.

                “You look good on your back, dripping with sweat.”

                A grin washed over Eyoralin’s face at the sound of that beautiful voice. “You look better, Thanra.”

                “Oh, how I wish that were true!” the woman bemoaned as she stepped over Eyoralin’s hips. Crossing her arms, she raised a brow and peered down her nose at the woman on the floor.

                “It _is_ true. If you don’t believe me, come down here and say it to my face, Tulip.” Eyoralin licked her lips slowly and folded her arms under her head.

                Keeping her feet on either side of Eyoralin’s hips, Thanra lowered herself to a squat. Folding her legs back, she settled on Eyoralin’s pelvis, transferring some of her weight to the woman’s body. Arms still crossed, she leaned forward, nose only a few inches from the other woman’s. “You, my feisty little coeurl, look much better in the buff.”

                With a motion so fast one could barely see it with the naked eye, Eyoralin threw an arm around Thanra’s neck, jerked her close, rolled them over, and kissed the most beautiful lips on Eos.

                Thanra gasped into the kiss, but feed her arms to grab Eyoralin’s damp tank top. Swinging her legs up, she wrapped them around the other woman’s waist and twisted her hips. The pair rolled onto their sides and Thanra used the momentum to top Eyoralin once more. Breaking the kiss, she grinned triumphantly, flipping her cocoa colored ponytail back over her shoulder. “Challenge me to a proper fight when you aren’t exhausted. Then you won’t have to cheat.”

                “How rude! I never cheated.”

                “You cheated twofold!” Thanra quipped back.

                “How?”

                “First you lay here, breast heaving, sweat glistening on your skin, breathing as though you’re fresh off a romp. Then you ply my lips with a kiss to distract me. Cheating, if I ever saw it!”

                “I would call it _taking advantage of a situation_ or _reading my opponent_. All things I’m being taught to do to become an official member of the Crownsguard, yes?”

                Falling onto her backside between Eyoralin’s thighs, Thanra scowled at the woman. “Technically yes, but—”

                “No buts. However, I will gladly challenge you to a proper fight later on,” Eyoralin replied, sitting up and kissing the woman again. “Perhaps a private match without this pesky clothing between us.”

                Thanra purred in her throat. “I like the sound of that.”

                Eyoralin wrapped her arms around Thanra and dipped her head to ghost her lips over the cleavage just barely poking above the neckline of the woman’s shirt.

                “Ladies!”

                Rolling her eyes, Eyoralin lifted her head to peek over Thanra’s shoulder.

                “How many times do I have to tell you to keep things professional? None of us wish to see your public affections.”

                Sighing, Eyoralin separated herself from Thanra.

                “Why does your brother hate me so much?” Thanra asked, getting to her feet.

                “He doesn’t hate you, he’s just trying to make sure he’s not playing favorites.” Patting Thanra on the shoulder, Eyoralin stretched to work the stiffness from her muscles.

                Thanra’s grey eyes met Timorea’s blue ones. He furrowed his brow, a dark glower contorting his handsome features. The expression was brief, however, disappearing as soon as Eyoralin turned toward him.

                “Would you like to try again, Love?” Timorea asked, sauntering across the mat toward his sister.

                The woman twisted her mouth to one side and brushed the sweat-damp hair away from her face. The curls escaping her bun tickled her neck and ears. “I’ll decline for today. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you, dear brother.”

                “Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear.” Grinning at her, Timorea reached out to pat the woman’s head. “So, what shall we amuse ourselves with tonight? Pops is on duty, so we’ve the house to ourselves.”

                Before Eyoralin could answer, another member of the Guard approached them. The young man hooked his arm around her brother’s neck, hanging heavily on his frame.

                “Hey, Tim! We still on for tonight?” he asked, eagerness in his bizarre red and blue heterochromatic eyes.

                Irritation flashed across Timorea’s face. “Actually Beto, I was just making plans with Lyn.”

                “Aw, c’mon man! D’ya know how hard I worked ta steal you away from my sister?”

                Eyoralin sighed her amusement as Timorea wrinkled his nose.

                “There was no need to steal me from anyone. There’s plenty of me to go around,” he replied, charming expression fixed in place once again.

                “Tim…I’m not sharing you with my sister.”

                Before the conversation could escalate, Eyoralin raised a hand. “Take my brother and have a lovely night, Beto. Thanra and I have plans anyway.”

                “You sure you wouldn’t rather—”

                Eyoralin clamped her hand over Timorea’s mouth, Betoro wants to have your company for the night. Go have fun. People will think you’re odd if you only wish to spend time with me.”

                Resignation settled on Timorea’s face as his sister moved her hand. “As you wish, Lovely. I warn you, Beto, I shan’t be a cheap date tonight.”

                Beto laughed, his eyes slipping shut. “You never are, Tim!”

                Eyoralin shook her head affectionately at the pair. Her brother was a popular man, held in high regard by every member of the Crownsguard, be they younger or older. Though she felt his attention could be a little skewed at times.

                “Hey Eyo, let’s get out of here.”

                Thanra’s reappearance made a muscle in Timorea’s jaw twitch, but Eyoralin never saw his displeasure. She focused her attention on the woman at her side, hooking an arm around her neck. “Are we done with training?”

                Thanra glance around, taking in the men and women standing around the border of the room, towels around their necks, water bottles in hand. “Seems that way.”

                “Perfect.” Eyoralin tugged Thanra close and planted her lips on the woman’s cheek. “Let’s shower so we won’t stink up the restaurant.”

                “Separately, please,” Timorea growled.

                The women just laughed as they walked away, leaving Timorea and Beto standing on the edge of the room. Quirking a brow, Beto glanced at Timorea. “You really don’t like Thanra all of a sudden. Like, since your sister started training with us.”

                “Hm.” Shrugging Beto’s arm off his shoulder, Timorea wandered toward the locker rooms.

                “Wait,” said Beto, chasing after Timorea, “don’t tell me you’re jealous? Lyn can’t spend all her time with you just because you’re her brother.”

                “Thanra is a distraction. We’ve yet to uncover her abilities. She needs to focus on her recovery, and her family,” Timorea explained, pulling the elastic band from his hair.

                Beating Timorea to it, Beto scrubbed his fingers through the man’s red strands, restoring it to his ridiculous mass of waves and curls. “Maybe she doesn’t have any abilities.”

                “Four months is not enough time to explore her potential, Betoro. We are twins. It makes no sense for her to lack an extraordinary talent.”

                “Let her have some fun. Keeping her on a leash will only stress her out and prevent any free flow of energy.”

                Timorea rolled his eyes. “Enough about Eyoralin. You wanted my company this evening, so you shall have my undivided attention. What do you say we put our already limber muscles to good use and occupy the Commander’s private shower?”

                Beto smacked Timorea between the shoulders as he barked out a laugh. “I’m not complaining, but isn’t this what you _just_ told your sister not to do?”

                A sly smirk curved Timorea’s lips. “Do as I say and not as I do,” he purred, dragging his finger under Beto’s chin.

                “Oh, you are an underhanded individual, Timorea Gelida.”

                Chuckling low in his throat, Timorea sauntered off toward the shower. Beto chased after him like an eager puppy.

 

***

 

                _You were happy._

                I was.

                _What happened?_

                I’ll show you. But first, you need to see the peak I fell from. You’ve seen the misery I came from, now I am showing you the happiness I built for myself. You will feel what I felt, and I will make you realize _no one_ is ever who they say they are.

                _I refuse to be so cynical._

                Then you are a braver individual than I, Sunshine. I’ve lived through variants of these events for too many lifetimes to believe there are any innocent souls left in the world.

                _Who did you piss off to have a cursed existence like this?_

                Patience, Love. All in due time.


	21. Intermission With Intent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is primarily a sex scene between Eyoralin and Thanra. If that's not your thing, feel free to skip this chapter entirely. Or even just skip to the end to read the short exchange between Prompto and Eyoralin.

                Eyoralin licked her lips, ready to devour the treat hovering mere inches above her face. But she couldn’t indulge just yet, oh no, she had to touch, tease, _prime_ this decadent dessert. It wouldn’t do to waste this opportunity.

                Sliding her hands from Thanra’s knees, slowly over firm thighs, Eyoralin paused to squeeze wide, plump hips. She adored the way her fingers dug into soft flesh, creating gentle divest. Every curve of Thanra’s beautiful frame made her salivate. When one thought of the body of a soldier, it was not Thanra which came to mind. Thanra was pleasantly curvy, her belly chubby, her breasts heavy. However, she was one of the strongest members of the Guard, able to swing around a great sword as though it was made of paper. Her muscles were disguised, save for her legs and arms.

                Moving away from her hips, Eyoralin’s fingers traveled upward, over the soft curve of the woman’s stomach. She could feel the powerful muscles beneath fat when Thanra’s core stiffened at the ticklish touches.

                Eyoralin grinned, walking her fingertips across the woman’s ribs, eliciting a breathy giggle. The backs of her fingers brushed the underside of Thanra’s breasts, the weight of them apparent even with the bare touch.

                A sigh escaped her nose as she cupped her hands over each mound. They were too big to fit in her palms, but there was so much to squeeze, massage, kiss, and suck on. Though she barely touched Thanra, her sensitive skin was already responding, her nipples hardening in her hands. Lifting her hands, Eyoralin let the surface of the little nubs rub teasingly over the center of her palms.

                Eyoralin hummed low in her throat and blew a slow, soft breath upward. Thanra gasped, her folds twitching at the cool air. Narrowing her eyes, she glowered at Eyoralin, which only earned her another chuckle. The expression softened, and she moaned as expert hands massaged her tits. Jolts of tingly electricity shot straight through her body each time her nipples met the rough skin of her girlfriend’s palms. The teasing sent shivers through her. She whispered Eyoralin’s name, doubling over to plant her hands on the pillow above the woman’s head. They had barely begun playing this evening, but Thanra’s thighs already quivered in anticipation.

                Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, Eyoralin moaned her appreciation, savoring the heft of flesh she held in her hands. Squishing the firm tits back against Thanra’s body, Eyoralin decided to tease her with another cool breath between her legs. Thanra’s thighs weren’t the only thing quivering now.

                Reluctantly releasing Thanra’s breasts, she let them hand naturally. The bottom-heavy things swayed, ready for her lips to latch on. Her mouth flooded with saliva at the prospect, but her attention was due elsewhere.

                Putting her hands back on Thanra’s hips, Eyoralin scooted down on the bed some, readjusting herself and the other woman. Satisfied with their position, she dropped one hand between Thanra’s legs to brush her thumb across the neatly maintained hair covering the full outer lips. She eased the folds apart, licking her lips once more as she revealed beautiful, deep, dusty rose-colored flesh. Moisture glistened on her skin, already collecting, ready to drip.

                Eyoralin hadn’t seen many women in the buff, but even if she saw a thousand more in her life, she was convinced no single person would have a pussy as beautiful as Thanra’s. The color, the shape, the way her delicate inner lips draped a bit longer than her outer, everything was stunning. But Eyoralin always made sure to tease her favorite part most. The perfectly sized bundle of nerves, a most sensitive spot that, on Thanra, was easy to stimulate even when it chose to shyly hide beneath its hood.

                Taking one last good look, committing every detail to memory, Eyoralin opened her mouth. Teasing at first, she drew the very tip of her tongue across one outer lip, then the other. She enjoyed the texture of the rough hair and the impatience in the woman’s voice. She repeated the action on the inner lips before taking the flesh between her lips and gently sucking on one side, then the other.

                Spreading the folds with one hand, Eyoralin gave Thanra a lick, stopping shy of her clit. The woman squirmed, rolling her hips forward. Smirking, Eyoralin kissed the little bundle of nerves before sliding her tongue across it. Thanra moaned softly, combing her fingers through the woman’s hair. The gesture earned her an appreciative purr.

                Starting slow, Eyoralin dragged her tongue across Thanra’s hot, soft flesh. The licks were long, teasing yet relaxing. The lazy motions steadily quickened, however, each tongue lap becoming shorter to match the new pace. Occasionally she would switch her concentration to flicking the tip of her tongue over Thanra’s clit, then suckled it gently. Her stimulation was rewarded with soft curses and the delicious flavor of arousal clinging to those delicate folds above her.

                Through half-lidded eyes, Thanra watched Eyoralin’s head bob as she lapped at the sensitive flesh between her legs. The woman’s skill, the heat of her mouth, and her knowledge of Thanra’s sweet spots always made her legs shake. She turned to jelly even as her muscles clenched, seeking out more of that spreading warmth.

                Thanra wanted to reach back and slip her fingers between Eyoralin’s legs while she rode the woman’s beautiful mouth. Wanted to, but had learned early in their physical exploration to keep her hands to herself while she, as Eyo put it, _partook of this bountiful feast_. The woman hated being distracted, preferring to concentrate on making Thanra squirm. Though she realized quickly Thanra’s sensitivity was not an act, and she needed to rein in her enthusiasm unless she wanted to clean up another rather substantial mess.

                Eyoralin’s eyes slid shut as she focused on the sweet fluid coating her tongue. Opening her mouth wide, she eased the agile muscle into the tight heat of her girlfriend’s body. The reach wasn’t much, but Eyoralin wiggled and rolled her tongue expertly.

                Saliva mixed with Thanra’s wetness and rolled in a thin bead down Eyoralin’s chin. It tickled, but she didn’t stop to wipe it away. Angling her chin, she pushed deeper into the woman, giving short thrusts with her tongue as she rubbed her clit with the pad of her thumb.

                A quiet whimper vibrated through Thanra’s body as her hips twitched against relentless lips. Eyoralin withdrew slightly, focusing her mouth at the apex of her slit. She sucked hard, swirling the tip of her tongue teasingly around the nub. Keeping her mouth there, Eyoralin slipped two fingers inside the woman, curling the digits against the muscled walls.

                Voice shaking as much as her legs, Thanra moaned, eyes screw shut. Heat coiled low in her abdomen, her toes curled, and her jaw fell slack. Eyoralin’s movements were so fast, they all blurred together. The moist heat on her clit, the pull against flesh as Eyoralin sucked, the slip and press of fingers inside her, layered one on top of the other. Her own moans and ragged panting reached her ears, coupled with the wet noises between her legs.

                Thighs quaking, she tensed her muscles against building pleasure in her core. Eyoralin was trying to pour a bucket of water into a glass with her amazing techniques. The mix of sensation made her mind fuzzy and her body weak, overwhelming when the redhead got serious. If Eyoralin asked Thanra to straddle her face, her body reacted immediately, expecting and craving the back to back orgasms she always received.

                Rubbing her lips and tongue over the wet folds between Thanra’s legs, Eyoralin rapidly curled her fingers inside, keeping the motions going until the woman’s body spasmed and clenched hard around the digits. The woman gasped, curled over, entire body shaking and hips twitching. Sticky wetness dripped down the inside of Eyoralin’s hand. Heat and prickling electricity coursed through her, the knot unraveled explosively, but the rope continued to fray as Eyoralin continued her teasing. She came again, her legs squeezing the sides of Eyo’s face as breathless gasps tore from her throat.

                Pulling back, Eyoralin licked her lips, breaking the strings of fluid connecting her to Thanra. Humming a content little noise, she placed kissed to the woman’s vibrating legs.

                “Beautiful,” she whispered, scooting back to admire Thanra.

                Sweat curled the dark hair at her temples and her chest heaved as she panted. Despite the temperature of her skin, gooseflesh peppered her limbs where sweat already started to dry. Her entire body blushed.

                “By the Astrals!” Thanra gasped, collapsing backward and sprawling across the bed.

                Swinging the woman’s legs to one side, Eyoralin chuckled as she sat up. Sucking the mess from her fingers, she watched the rise and fall of her lover’s breast.

                “Let me catch my breath, and I’ll repay the favor.”

                “Hm, I think I’ll take a rain check,” Eyoralin replied, switching positions to snuggle in on top of Thanra’s pillowy curves.

                Wrapping her arms around the woman, Thanra kissed her forehead. “What? Not like you to turn down an orgasm,” she chuckled.

                “Later. I just want to enjoy you without worrying about Timorea, or training, or any of the other interruptions we often face.” Eyoralin nuzzled Thanra’s neck and twirled her fingers in thick, soft hair. “I know it’s only been a month, and Timorea insists on telling me this is merely infatuation, but…I love you, Thanra.”

                “I—” The words caught in Thanra’s throat and she had to swallow hard to regain her voice. “No one’s ever said that to me b’fore.”

                Lifting her head, Eyoralin directed a wide-eyed stare at Thanra. “You _must_ be joking.”

                Tears sparkling in bright grey eyes, Thanra shook her head.

                “Then allow me to say the words until you tire of hearing them. I love you.” Eyoralin pushed herself upright, sitting back on Thanra’s thighs. “I love you, I love you.”

                An abrupt grin blossomed on Thanra’s face, which she promptly covered with both hands. A bubbly giggle made her breasts and belly jiggle adorably.

                Eyoralin smiled back, sweeping her hair to one side as she tilted her head. “I love you.”

                Licking her lips and drawing the bottom between her teeth, Thanra’s grin softened. A pleasant pink flush pooled in her cheeks. “I, uh…I love you, too.”

                Eyebrows quivering, Eyoralin’s eyes blurred with tears of her own. Her heart hammered against her ribs, offsetting the flutter in her belly. How could words hit her so hard? True, she had never expected to hear them, though when she was young she dreamed of a day when she might.

                “I don’t recall much of my life,” she whispered, unable to hold Thanra’s gaze. “My childhood and most of my teen years consisted of one horror after another. My therapist at the Citadel explained to me I blocked much of it from my memory to save my sanity. Timorea finding me was a rebirth of sorts. I’m now forming new, pleasant memories to overwrite the pain of my past. I…”

                Thanra watched the woman war with herself. She closed her lids, trying to hide the turmoil in those ethereal blue eyes. The urge to wrap her arms around Eyoralin and never let go was frighteningly strong.

                “I’m glad you’ve helped me form some of the best memories of my life.”

                Butterflies took flight in Thanra’s belly as she sat up and flung her arms around the woman. She never expected to be so smitten with this woman she was introduced to three and a half months ago. Never expected to trip and fall head over heels. It was scary and amazing.

                “I never even had a friend before. So much has happened in the last few months. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

                “I haven’t done anything,” Thanra replied with a shake of her head.

                “You’ve done so much more than I can even begin to explain.”

                Limbs tangled together, the women lost themselves in one another, all starting with a long embrace.

 

***

 

                _My heart is so full. Bursting._

                Thanra was my first, my only true love. I believe she was my soul mate, the energy I’ve been chasing since I came into existence. The energy which is always stolen from me.

                _This is how I feel with him. Is he my soul mate?_

Don’t let your heart fool you. He will be snatched away, leaving you cold and broken.

                _I won’t let that happen._

                You won’t have a choice.


	22. Of No Consequence

                Timorea didn’t know if the pain he felt was an actual injury or if his chest was so full of pride it hurt. Then again that was just his chest. His back, legs, and arms already complained with a pain he’d be feeling tenfold tomorrow.

                “And with that, I believe I’ve won,” Eyoralin stated, her foot planted in the center of his chest.]   Narrowing his eyes at the woman, Timorea tried to come up with some way to invalidate her victory. Not because he wasn’t immensely proud of her achievement and her strides in just six months, but because he didn’t have any interest in the conversation they would be having because of it. He wasn’t looking forward to this evening.

                Eyoralin leaned down, crossing her arms and grinning wolfishly at the man splayed on the mat. “Face it, brother, I kicked your ass.”

                Timorea sighed heavily, hands flopping against the mat. “And you didn’t even break a sweat. The more I watch you, the more convinced I am that stamina and strength are your gifts.”

                “You’re just mad I beat you,” laughed Eyoralin. She moved her foot and extended her hand to help him up.

                Grabbing the woman’s hand, she yanked him to his feet and nearly flung him across the room. Her power had blossomed in just two months, growing rapidly as he trained.

                Regaining his balance, Timorea brushed an errant curl off his forehead. “Eyoralin, I wasn’t just saying that to hear myself talk. You just lifted me like I weight no more than a sack of feathers. And earlier, I had to defend myself with every ounce of my strength in my body, only for you to lay me flat without even a single bead of sweat on your brow. Thanra!” Barking the woman’s name, he shot her a sharp glance.

                “What’s up?” she asked, taking her eyes off the equipment she was cleaning.

                “Bring me the _Behemoth King_ ,” he requested.

                Mouth falling open, she stared at him for a moment without answering.

                “Now!”

                Other members of the Guard in the vicinity stared, whispering among themselves as Thanra rushed to get the item in question.

                Eyoralin raised a brow. “What, may I ask, is the _Behemoth King_? It sounds like the name of a sex toy.”

                Timorea’s cheeks colored at her response. Clearing his throat, he frowned at her. “When Thanra brings it in, you’ll see.”

                “Then at least tell me why the others are staring like I’ve grown a second head,” she grumbled at her brother.

                “Because the _King_ has a reputation. We only bring it out in extreme cases, and you m’dear, are an extreme case.” Grinning he whacked her between the shoulders and she quirked a brow.

                “Honestly, Timorea, if this is your way of distracting everyone from my—”

                “Make way!”

                Eyoralin lifted her head, turning toward the door. Thanra’s strained voice reached them before she came back into the room. Practically stomping under the weight of the enormous cloth-covered _thing_ slung across her shoulders, sweat already dampened her brow, and her flexed arms twitched.

                “Move!” she barked at the small cluster of soldiers standing between her and Timorea. When she reached the siblings, she stopped, took a deep breath and grit her teeth. With a guttural growl, she bent her knees, hefted the thing with her shoulders, and swung it single-handedly onto the mat.

                Eyoralin watched her girlfriend with wide eyes. Her face was dark red from strain, and shiny with sweat. Heavy breathing swayed her entire body, and she looked like she just came from a thirty-mile run. “Are you alright?” she asked Thanra.

                “Fine,” she huffed. “This thing’s a bitch to lug around.”

                “What _is_ it?” Eyoralin asked again.

                “This, my tasty little strawberry,” began Thanra, untying the cloth covering, “is the greatest Greatsword you’ll ever find. No one really knows who it originally belonged to, or the height of their strength. Or if it was just a joke. We use it now to test people. And challenge drunk colleagues.” Grinning, she whipped back the cloth to reveal the _Behemoth King_.

                Eyoralin’s jaw dropped at the sight of the blade. From end to end, it neared nine feet long and was roughly two feet wide. The black metal, not quite steel in appearance, had been engraved in intricate designs representing the Astrals. Some of the designs had been worn away or scratched from where the weapon struck all manner of man and beast. Deep reds and purples, like a sunset, colored the center of the weapon, faded from time, but still rich and beautiful. The hilt and handle continued the complicated design of Astral-themed carvings. The carvings became three-dimensional sculptures, woven together to create a thick, sturdy handle. Two distinct wear patches smoothed and flattened the already rounded carvings. This weapon was old and well-used.

                “It’s beautiful,” Eyoralin whispered.

                “Though the grip is completely impractical,” Thanra complained, crossing her arms. “Whoever tossed this monstrosity around had to have used gripped gloves just to keep their hands from slipping.”

                “Practical or not, it’s clear this was a well used, well-loved weapon. Pick it up.”

                Eyoralin’s eyes snapped up to her brother. “Excuse me?”

                “Lyn, I need you to pick up this greatsword,” he told her sticking his chin out.

                Shaking her head, Eyoralin took a step back. “I can’t do that! Thanra can barely lift it, and she wields greatswords like nothing!”

                “I have faith in you.”

                Her eyes shot toward Thanra, wide and just a little panicked. The woman gazed back with a confident smile.

                “I’ve seen your strength, babe. You’ve got this.”

                Timorea cringed at the delivery but agreed with the sentiment.

                “I don’t know…”

                “Just try it! What’s the worst that’ll happen? You can’t lift it! Same as most the people in the room,” Thanra told her.

                “I don’t want to disappoint you,” Eyoralin muttered, glancing up at her brother.

                The spectators in the room waited, watching with baited breath while Timorea and Thanra smiled encouragingly.

                Sighing, Eyoralin turned her attention back to the _Behemoth King_. Licking her lips, she stepped toward it and rubbed her hands together. She bent down, exhaling a slow breath as she wrapped one sweat-prickled palm around the intricate handle. Psyching herself up, she took a few breaths, adjusted her footing, and lifted.

                Eyes shooting wide, Timorea and Thanra stumbled back, out of the way. The room erupted in cheers.

                “My word!” gasped Timorea, a pleased grin spreading on his face.

                “I am both amazed and a little scared,” Thanra stated with a breathy chuckle. “How have you not snapped me in half? Or broken my pelvis?”

                Timorea grimaced but tried his best to ignore the woman. “See, love? You _are_ strong.”

                Eyoralin’s mouth gaped as she looked at her hand clasped around the sculpted handle of the _Behemoth King_. It was strange how she could feel the weight of the weapon yet at the same time it was weightless. The dull edge of the thing rest over her shoulder, supported by her body.

                “How is this possible? Is it a joke of some sort?” she demanded, glancing between Timorea and Thanra.

                “A joke?” Timorea asked, raising his brows at her. “If you think we’re all playing a trick on you, then I invite you to put the _King_ down and have each person in here attempt to lift it.”

                Scowling, Eyoralin swung the weapon over her shoulder and extended her arm, holding it out straight. The _Behemoth King_ remained steady, parallel with the floor. “There is no chance this thing is as heavy as you claim it to be.”

                Timorea’s eyebrows knit together and he stared at her with unrestrained shock.

                “Here!” She stepped toward her brother and gestured toward him with the weapon.

                “I’m not about to break my wrist,” Timorea told her.

                Gritting her teeth, Eyoralin dropped the blade with a bone-rattling clatter. Thinking she was being made fun of, she stepped over the weapon and pushed past the pair.

                “Lyn, wait!”

                “Eyo!”

                Clenching her hands into fists, she left the training room despite the pair calling after her. She couldn’t stand being humiliated in front of so many people. And that the instigators were her family and her lover.

                She couldn’t remember the last time she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

                Hurrying to the elevator, she swiped her hand over her eyes and swallowed hard. Sight locked on her feet, distracted by her turbulent emotions. She didn’t notice she had been followed until she stumbled backward, pulled against a sturdy body.

                “Let me go!”

                “Lyn, stop.” Timorea wrapped his arms tightly around his sister’s shoulders. “Why are you running?”

                “I don’t appreciate being made fun of,” she told him, voice thick.

                “No one is making fun.”

                Nostrils flaring, Eyoralin tried to peel her brother’s arms away. “You and Thanra decided to go together behind my back and play an elaborate joke. If you wanted me to look like a fool, you could have just left me on the street where you found me. It would have been easier for everyone.”

                “We did nothing of the sort. What would either of us have to gain, love? Why would I save you just to play a joke? And Thanra? She wouldn’t fall in love with you to ultimately destroy your pride. Neither of us would do this. You and I need to have a long chat.”

                “Let go of me.”

                Sighing, Timorea released the woman and stepped back. “I’m sorry you would think we’d be so cruel to you. No matter what you believe, you’ve been gifted with miraculous strength. That is what we are, my dear. Anomalies. But we’ll discuss this at length this evening. Go speak with Thanra. No reason for you to ruin your relationship over a misunderstanding, as much as I disagree with it.” Keeping his head down, he squeezed her arm gently.

                “I cannot swallow my pride and go back in there,” she mumbled.

                Timorea scoffed. “In this case, I shall be kind to her. For your happiness, dear sister. I’ll ask her to meet you at the café in an hour. Just…don’t take long making up; you and I have plans.”

                “Thank you.”

                “I am proud of what you accomplished today, and what you will accomplish in days to come.” Smiling brightly, he gave her arm another squeeze and turned back the way he came.

                Eyoralin’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. She couldn’t believe she was so strong, but she couldn’t believe the two people she loved would be so horrible, either. Perhaps her brother could shed light on her conflicting emotions this evening. She didn’t enjoy feeling this way.

 

***

 

                Timorea set a steaming cup of tea on the table before Eyoralin and sat down opposite her. “Do you recall those many questions you prattled off to me six months ago?”

                Dipping her head in a tiny nod, Eyoralin closed her hands around the cup.

                “You beat me fair and square, so I shall answer them to the best of my ability. As promised.”

                “Then tell me; who are we?”

                Timorea hummed, scrubbing a hand through his wild hair. “A difficult question right off the bat. So blunt!”

                “Please, don’t avoid the subject as you like to do in difficult situations,” Eyoralin told him, peeking up under her eyebrows.

                “I promise, I’m not trying to. I’m mainly figuring out where I ought to begin. Our existence is a messy one.” Sighing, he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “No one knows where we came from. I was left with my father, you with your mother. We each had a letter attached to our blankets stating our names and a minor note of our lineage. I was to be called Timorea Gelida, Child of Frost. Some difficult sleuthing revealed you to be Eyoralin Viribus, Child of Power. These names were given to us because whoever left us with our adoptive parents knew our abilities. I understand your life was not a good one, and you suffered greatly but your strength kept you alive. I was put with Pops because I needed to be coddled. Our circumstances were skewed and unfair to be sure.”

                “What did these notes say about our lineage?” Eyoralin prodded, trying to steer him away from painful memories.

                “Not much, unfortunately. When I said a minor note, it really was just that. It claimed our Mother’s fate did not include children of her blessing, and our Father was a man of no consequence.”

                “What does that even mean?”

                Timorea shrugged. “Haven’t a clue, but they must have been interesting individuals to create us. After all, who but royalty has magic?”

                “Who at all has super-human strength?”

                “I will admit, you have Godly powers packed in that small frame of yours. We are a bizarre pair. As I said, anomalies.”

                Eyoralin groaned. “I still don’t understand what we are.”

                “We are Timorea Gelida and Eyoralin Viribus, twin siblings raised apart but found one another. We have talents no one else does. We are extraordinary.”

                “ _You_ are extraordinary. You were selected by King Mors. I was found dying in an alley.”

                Leaning forward, Timorea reached out to grab Eyoralin’s wrist. “Don’t. I’m saddened and exhausted listening to the negative words you speak about yourself. You are remarkable. Look at the strides you’ve made in mere months. I am sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

                “How _did_ you find me?”

                Timorea smirked. “Believe it or not, but Thanra and Beto told me about _a woman who shared my face_.”

                “Thanra never told me. She pretended she had no idea who I was when we were introduced,” Eyoralin said with a shake of her head.

                “She didn’t want to skew your perspective of her. She worried about you greatly. Beto may not say much, but he was concerned as well. He’s very proud of your achievements, too.”

                “Timorea…I want to find out who our parents were,” she told her brother, squaring her shoulders and meeting his eyes with a steely gaze.

                The man let out a slow breath, releasing the woman’s wrist and sliding his hands back across the table. “I’ve tried, love. Every avenue I’ve explored has been a dead end. I’ve tried investigating relatives of the Lucis Caelum line, priestesses caught up in affairs, numerous individuals of high standing. I’ve turned up nothing. We were not wanted, left with strangers and meant to blend into society. Nothing we can do.”

                “There must be something you overlooked,” Eyoralin told him with a shake of her head. “I don’t accept we were just meant to fade into oblivion.”

                “I can show you the research I’ve compiled, but I’m not sure what good it will do.”

                “A mother who blessed us but didn’t want us, and a father of no consequence. Sounds like a riddle we’re meant to solve.”

                “A riddle to which we’ve been given painfully few clues.”

                Eyoralin shrugged. “Maybe so, but if you renew your efforts to help me solve it, I will blindly accept my newfound abilities. I will embrace and train this inexplicable strength with no question or complaint.”

                “Just like that?”

                “Just like that.”

                Timorea blinked at the woman. His brow twitched as he studied her face. She stared back, face impressive. He wasn’t sure how to take this change of heart.

                “Timorea, I promise. I keep my word, brother. I need to know what’s going on.”

                Dipping his head, he inhaled deeply. “Alright, I’ll give you my research in the morning. I want you to take training seriously from now on. That means no fooling around with Thanra.”

                Jaw twitching, Eyoralin scowled at Timorea. “May I ask one more question?”

                “Go ahead.”

                “Why do you dislike her so much? Please be honest with me.”

                Huffing a sigh through his nose, Timorea’s cheeks flushed and he averted his gaze.

                “Timorea.”

                “I don’t…dislike her. She’s a good soldier, a fantastic teammate, and skilled in heavy weapons,” he muttered, brow furrowed.

                “But?”

                The man pursed his lips. “It’s mortifying.”

                Eyoralin quirked a brow. “How so?”

                “She’s…stealing you from me.”

                The woman nearly choked on her tongue. “Excuse me?”

                “I’ve only had you in my life for a few months. I haven’t had the chance to get to know my sister.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he refused to meet the woman’s eyes.

                Eyoralin cleared her throat. “Timorea, are you hearing yourself?”

                “Yes, and I know how it sounds. I’m not proud of myself.” Putting his face in his hands, Timorea groaned.

                “I’ll gladly talk with you as much as you want, but you can’t be selfish. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, more than you’ll ever know, but you have to let me have relationships outside of you and Pops.”

                Timorea took a moment to feel the icy hand squeeze his heart. “I understand, and I will try my hardest to respect your boundaries. I know I can’t hog all of your time.”

                “Thank you.”

                “What will I do with myself while you aren’t around? I barely recall what it was like by my lonesome,” Timorea sighed dramatically.

                “Perhaps you could spend a little more time with Beto. He really likes you,” Eyoralin suggested.

                Pouting, the man propped his chin in his palm. “But he’s so much effort.”

                Eyoralin grinned. “The best things are. Shall I call him for you, _love_?”

                Groaning loudly, Timorea stretched out his arms, planting his forehead on the table. “I suppose.”

                “Don’t pretend you aren’t at least attracted to the man.”

                Blushing to the tips of his ears, Timorea flicked his hands toward Eyoralin. “Shoo!”

                Rolling her eyes, Eyoralin patted her brother’s head and left him to mope. “I’ll call him on my way over to Thanra’s.”

                “…Thank you.”

 

***

 

                Even after a short time, the good things began to fray around the edges.

                _Eyoralin, I don’t know what to say. I want to go back to my friends. We can help you, but you just have to let us._

Better people than you have tried.

                _Just tell us what we need to do._

No one can stop the Gods-Cursed Darkness in our veins. No one can stop Their petty actions or His plague. You will all die.


	23. Loss of Self

                “Not even a twitch?” Gladio asked, peeking over his shoulder.

                “No. Not from either of them. Noctis hasn’t left his side since last night,” Ignis sighed, eyes glued to the thick book in his lap.

                Perching on the arm of Ignis’ chair, Gladio put his arm around the man’s shoulders. “Find anything useful?”

                “I’m not sure this book was an official volume. I’m just now seeing there is no author noted anywhere on the cover, and other than a few small points about their upbringing, the timeline begins well after their departure from the Crown City,” Ignis told him, brow furrowed.

                “You think we can trust it as a source of information?”

                “Unfortunately, it’s all we’ve got. Though perhaps, if your memory is reliable, you can tell me what you found in Timorea’s records.” Finally taking his eyes off the book, he looked up at Gladio.

                Puffing out a breath, the man stared across the room. His brow creased in thought and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “He was MIA,” he eventually stated.

                “Really? Were there any mission details?”

                Gladio shook his head. “Not in his record, but dad told me about that mission. It was grisly. Two deaths and a lot of near misses. Most of the unit barely got out alive. They were sleeping when they got ambushed. Gelida was never found. A lot of people thought he defected, though they didn’t even know if it was soldiers who attacked them.”

                “Perhaps he used the confusion of the attack to flee?” Ignis suggested.

                “But why? What would he be running from?”

                “Your guess is as good as mine. Though it probably isn’t much of stretch assuming his sister was there as well.”

                “Probably. So, what _can_ you tell me from that book?” Scuffing a hand through his hair, he got up and deposited himself in another chair.

                “Apparently both brother and sister, though close, behaved oddly. They were often seen arguing in whispers but pretended nothing was amiss when in public eye,” Ignis recited from a page.

                Gladio frowned at the floor. “How did the author know they argued if they pretended to be okay in public?”

                “Yet another mystery. Unless…perhaps they wrote it? Or one of them at least.”

                “And tried to sound vague to throw people off?”

                Ignis groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “None of this adds up. It almost feels as though this book was put here just for us to find.”

                “At this point, I’ll believe pretty much anything. Have you heard from our _friend_ at all?”

                “Thankfully not. You? Anymore lies in your head?”

                Gladio shook his head. “I feel like we’re sitting on a timebomb, waiting for him to come back.”

                “I couldn’t agree more,” Ignis replied, the words garbled by a wide yawn.

                Gladio’s brows twitched at the out of character action. “Hey, Ig?”

                “Yes?”

                “Do you feel like…you’re losing yourself?”

                “What do you mean?”

                Leaning forward, Gladio propped his elbows on his knees. “The longer we’re like this, the less I feel like me, y’know? Like, I’m a weird amalgamation of me and Prompto. Not one or the other. Like, what you just did. You, just you, would never talk through a yawn. That was an influenced action. We aren’t distinctly _us_ anymore.”

                “The amount of times you used the word _like_ there only solidifies your point. I completely understand what you mean, though. I struggle so much to stop myself whenever I notice I’m behaving like Noct,” Ignis admitted, keeping his eyes on his book. “I’m scared what that means for us if we manage to go back to normal.”

                “When.”

                “Hm?”

                “You said _if_. I corrected you to _when_. Y’know, I think we’re looking at this wrong,” Gladio said, stretching forward and plucking the book from Ignis’ hands.

                Ignis quirked a brow and crossed his legs. “How so?”

                “This spell, or curse, or whatever it is, has the sole purpose of driving a stake between us, right? We’re not used to the bodies, can’t fight, can’t deal with each other, right?”

                Propping his chin on his fist, Ignis nodded. “We’ve established this, yes.”

                “But we’ve already come to terms with being in these bodies. It’s just another problem on the heap. Nothing we can’t handle. In all honesty, it was a blessing in disguise when you think about it.” Putting the book on the table, Gladio smirked. The expression was more playful than sly on Prompto’s face.

                Ignis blinked at Gladio. Normally a succinct man, he was clearly being influenced by their motormouth companion in this aspect. “I don’t follow.”

                “We’ve had time to rest our bodies. We’ve been too distracted by the new problem—a unifying one—to care about the shit annoying us before. Superficial shit we would have gotten over after a day of R&R anyway. I think we could take on Tuudoh right now and win.”

                “What about combat? We’re dealing with entirely different skills,” Ignis pointed out.

                “Ignis. How long have we been training together, fighting together? We all know one another’s moves to the point where we could probably spar in our sleep. This thing was designed to drive people apart, but it didn’t count on the strength of brotherhood.”

                _My, what an impassioned speech Mr. Amicitia._

                Ignis sighed heavily, rolling his eyes at the voice. “How would you like to torment us today, _Mr. Gelida_ ,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from the name.

                “I’m glad you asked, Mr. Scientia!” Timorea chirped mockingly as he appeared at the foot of Noctis and Prompto’s bed.

                Ignis’ gaze flicked to the boys before settling back on Timorea. The man smiled, sardonic and familiar as one eyebrow slid upward. He turned toward the bed, folding his hands behind his back.

                “Leave them alone,” Gladio snarled, standing.

                “Or what?” Timorea purred, “You’ll threaten me with your useless weapons again? Or call on the Stormsender? Boys, boys, boys…” The man shook his head, clicking his tongue.

                “You have no business with them,” Ignis now tried, standing as well.

                “But that’s where you’re wrong!” Timorea laughed, turning his face back toward them. The whites of his eyes had gone black, leaving a ring of white-blue in the void. “Do you know how much misery I can farm just from this one mind?”

                Ignis and Gladio looked at Noctis, who still slept curled around Prompto.

                “His misery is yours. Yours is his. So much weight on such narrow shoulders.” Eyes narrow, Timorea licked his lips, his tongue long and serpentine. “I’m coming for you, my dear _sweet_ sister. Time to stop running.”

                Helpless, Ignis and Gladio could only watch as the daemon Timorea plunged his hand into Noctis’ forehead. Still sleeping, the man screamed, and the room plunged into darkness. Darkness so thick it pressed in on them heavily, leaving an oily residue on their skin.

                When the lights returned, Timorea was gone.

                “The _hell_ just happened?”

                “Your guess is as good as mine, I’m afraid,” Ignis muttered, hurrying to the side of the bed. He leaned over the pair, quickly checking for breathing and heart rate. Other than a small red mark on Noctis’ forehead, nothing changed. The boys only appeared to be napping.

                Squeezing his eyes shut, Ignis sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “What do we do, Gladio?”

                Crossing his arms, Gladio took a moment to find his voice. “I…I don’t know.”

                When Ignis finally opened his eyes, tears spilled down his cheeks, “We’re supposed to protect him,” he whispered. “How can we do that when the war is happening inside him?”

                Gladio felt his bottom lip quiver and inhaled a deep breath to push back the emotion. “Right now, I don’t know. But I can’t have you break down on me. I need you to stay with me, understand?”

                Clenching his teeth, Ignis swiped his hands over his eyes. “I’m here.”

                “Can I count on you to stay strong?”

                Ignis flicked a glare at the man. “I’m not a child, Gladio. It was merely a brief lapse in control.”

                Gladio raised his hands. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you. Hell, I feel like crying, too. I just wanna know if you can manage the Noct emotions.:

                “If you can handle Prompto’s.”

                Gladio took a deep breath and nodded, extending his hand. “C’mon. Let’s double down on the studying. Even if the book is bogus, we’ll come up with _something_.”

                Ignis scoffed, accepting the hand. “I’m glad you have confidence.”

                “I think you mean stupidity.”

                “Even that can serve a purpose, Gladio.”

                “I sure as hell hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is a bit shorter, and that it took so long for me to get out.


	24. Voices in the Dark

                “You want her to learn? You’ll take her with you.”

                “Commander, I don’t think—”

                “I don’t care what you think, Gelida. You’ve been letting her play around for nearly three _years_. Think of this as her exam. She survives, she’ll be official.”

                “What? She’s not ready yet!”

                “I’ve watched her. She’s ready. No more arguments, Gelida! Go help your squad prepare.”

                Stiff and formal, Timorea snapped off a salute. “Yes, sir!” Clenching his teeth, he turned on his heel and marched away. Fists tight at his sides, he swallowed hard and struggled to keep himself calm.

                “I don’t have time to deal with this right now,” he hissed to himself, ducking into a seldom-used room. The headache he had been nursing for days was steadily growing in intensity.

                A stabbing pain buckled his knees as he shut the door behind him. Clutching his head and squeezing his eyes shut, he breathed through the agony.  Explosions like fireworks colored his vision behind his eyelids and he cursed out loud.

                “Why must you torment me during the most inconvenient moments?” he demanded of the screaming in his skull. Sometimes this screaming left him with things he didn’t want. Things like snippets of conversations he never had, with people he never met, in places he never set foot. Sometimes when the screaming ebbed, he was left completely empty, devoid of everything but a seething black hatred.

                The hatred scared him more than anything. He couldn’t imagine existing on that singular emotion, yet a voice deep in his heart told him it was the _real_ way of things. A voice which had been with him his entire life, always taunting, always waiting to strike when he was weakest. A voice he told no one about, not even the man who raised him.

                Timorea always believed the unwanted images and sounds were part of his enigmatic magic. Energy stolen for life given. His healing talents weren’t much, but one could not get something for nothing. If he took small fragments of memory in exchange for their health, so be it. But the darkness living buried in his chest had no such explanation.

                It took long moments for the pain to recede back to a dull roar. Long enough for his sister to come looking for him, only to find him in his less than presentable state. He didn’t hear her enter the room, only felt her blissfully coo hands on his cheeks. She whispered softly, shushing him though he wasn’t sure he even made noise.

                Finally able to open his eyes, he blinked against the dim light. He couldn’t speak just yet, his tongue thick in his mouth, and lips sticking together in their dryness.

                Eyoralin peered down at him, brow creased deeply in concern. “Your head again?” she asked, voice low and soft.

                Timorea made a clipped sound of agreement in his throat. Though he hadn’t told her the whole story, the headaches came too frequently in the last few years to flat out lie to his sister. The last one was a migraine so intense, he’d been bedridden for three days.

                “Should I call for a doctor?”

                “No,” he croaked, grabbing her wrist. “It’ll pass. Please, just sit with me a moment.” Closing his eyes again, he leaned his head back against the wall and sighed.

                Keeping her eyes locked on her brother, Eyoralin sank to the floor beside him. Hooking her arm around his shoulders, she tugged him against her side so he could rest his head against her. Idly petting his oiled hair, she watched him carefully.

                “Things are falling apart,” Timorea muttered, filling the long silence.

                “How so?” Eyoralin asked, tipping her head to try and meet his eyes.

                The man tried to cover his flinch with a shrug. “My plans for you,” he answered too quickly.

                “Dictating my life again, dear brother?” Eyoralin teased, poking the man.

                “Guiding, love. If I were dictating, do you think I would allow the ridiculous engagement party you’re throwing?”

                Eyoralin’s rich laugh vibrated through them as she placed a gentle kiss on his temple. “You have no choice, Timorea. Pops already approved. Besides, Beto is looking forward to it.”

                Timorea rolled his eyes. “Of course he is. The romantic sap.”

                “Yet who was the one to propose?”

                “It’s unkind to tease your sibling, love.”

                “In that case, you’re a sadist.”

                Lips curling into a smirk, Timorea put a fond hand on his sister’s belly as he sat up. “Yes, well, can’t let you get soft after I spent so long hardening you up.” He heaved a sigh, his expression slipping. “The Commander wants you on this training exercise. He’ll assess you and see if you’re fit to serve the Crown.”

                “Finally. I’ve only been doing this without pay for _how_ long?”

                Timorea’s brow twitched at her tone. “Lyn, this is the _worst_ time for this.”

                The woman narrowed her eyes. “You say that like I have no idea what’s going on in my own life.”

                “Clearly you don’t! If you did, you would do the smart thing and stay home.”

                Careful not to smudge her makeup, Eyoralin rubbed a hand over her face. “How many times do I need to repeat myself, Timorea? I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

                “You think they’ll allow you to work right up to the day you give birth? I’m surprised Thanra is permitting this.”

                Eyoralin shook her head, chuckling disdainfully as she got to her feet. “I don’t even have the words to describe how idiotic you are.”

                “Pardon?”

                “All you need to know is I am quite capable of handling a little camping trip beyond the wall. I’ll reconsider my leave once I start to show. Honestly, try not to be too odd about it, please? Other than yourself, Thanra, and the staff at the clinic who performed the procedure, no one else even knows yet. We’d like to keep it that way for a while yet.”

                Timorea hummed his disapproval.

                “Now, shall we go give everyone else a hand? Everyone’s excited to leave the city for the first time.”

                The man huffed. “I’m not even sure why this is necessary. All sorts of terrain can be found within the Wall, and the Crownsguard are supposed to _guard_ the _Crown_. Can’t do that when we’re nowhere near the royal family.”

                “Oh, quit sulking. Do you want your unit seeing you like this?” Eyoralin teased, opening the door.

                “Hush, you.”

                Grinning, she patted his cheek. “Head feeling better?”

                He nodded. “It’s tolerable for the moment.”

                “Glad to hear it. No time to nurse a headache when there’s orders to carry out. If it makes you feel any better, we aren’t being singled out for this training. From what I understand, it’s supposed to be a refresher for the entire staff.”

                “That is what the Commander told me, yes. We just get to be the first group.”

                “Well, we do have the younger members.”

                “Maybe so, but I can outperform most of the people here.”

                Eyoralin rolled her eyes. “Cut it out. You’re behaving like a petulant child.”

                “Am not.”

                She blinked at him.

                “I am simply stating facts.”

                “Well, stop _stating facts_ and start acting like the leader you’re supposed to be.”

                Shaking his head, Timorea straightened his jacket and fell silently into step with his sister. The dark voice continued to sing its song, caged and muffled in the recesses of his heart. Only this time the negativity sounded more like a warning. One he should have heeded.

 

***

 

                Describing the feeling of _nothing_ was not something Noctis’ mind could do. It could barely comprehend it. But that was what he was currently experiencing.  It was almost a dull numbness in his chest, spreading through his body. It sapped his energy, his thoughts, his emotions…He was neither content nor restless, simply floating in the vast nothingness. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing, or his heart was beating, or if his eyes were open. He simply…was.

                What he wasn’t, was alone.

                Millions, perhaps billions of other inhabited this nothing as well. He could sense them, feel them nearby, though he couldn’t see them. What a bizarre concept it was, to feel more of people or things he couldn’t see, than himself.

                “Ah, your grandfather would be ashamed to know his bloodlines ends in _you_.”

                Though Noctis knew he should have been startled by the sudden voice, the nothingness prevented it.

                “It’s a shame we have to meet like this, Highness, but my sister has her claws in you. She wants your sympathy. Not me. Oh, no. What I want, dear Prince Noctis, is your misery.”

                “Who are you?” Noctis managed to ask, his voice thick and deep to his ears.

                In a blink, a face appeared before him. The face flickered between human and not, features randomly taking on daemon properties before settling back into the more appealing face of a young man. His pale skin shone in the blackness surrounding him, and his curly red hair floated about his head like they were underwater.

                “You wound me, Highness. Former Crownsguard to King Mors, Timorea Gelida, at your service.” Now a full body, not just a floating head, Timorea bowed with a deep flourish. When he straightened again, a dark grin twisted his face.

                “Release us,” Noctis growled in his most commanding tone.

                Timorea’s sinister chuckle echoed around them. “Now, now, Highness. You hardly have a leg to stand on here, and I’m in the mood to play.”

                Noctis grit his teeth, shifting into a defensive stance. He barely registered he was once again in possession of his body as he extended his hand to summon his weapon. No weapon came.

                “Oh, how cute. You think you can defend yourself from me.” Timorea flicked his wrist toward Noctis and tilted his head to watch as though he were observing a particularly fascinating specimen.

                A sharp, intense cold washed over Noctis, beginning as a tiny pinprick in his heart. Violent shivering gripped his entire body and a red haze settled over his vision. With much difficulty, he lifted his hands to see branches of blood red frost crusting his skin.

                Noctis blinked, attempting to clear his eyes and Timorea appeared mere inches from his face. Reaching out, the man tilted Noctis’ chink with one finger.

                “Did you know if your heart stops in a dream, you cease to live in the waking world? Only this isn’t a dream, dear Prince. This is the Void. You’re in our playground, now.”

                Noctis’ scream was not contained by the nothingness of the Void.


	25. Blood Frost

                If either Ignis or Gladio never heard that sound again in their lifetimes, it would be too soon. The only way to describe Noctis’ scream was pure, molecular agony. Physical and emotional.

                Ignis was at Noctis’ side before the sound stopped. He gently patted the young man’s face, hoping he would wake. He didn’t even bat an eye. His skin was like ice beneath Ignis’ hand.

                “Gladio,” he called, his worry leeching into his voice.

                The man appeared at Ignis’ shoulder.

                “What’s this?” He pointed at fingers of a scaly red substance snaking over the exposed skin of Noct’s neck and forearms. He had a suspicion but wanted a second opinion before he voiced his.

                Without thought, Gladio reached out and touched the substance. It melted beneath the heat of his fingertips. “Frost?” he questioned, glancing at Ignis.

                Ignis’ brow twitched. “What was it Timorea called himself? Blood Frost?”

                A muscle in Gladio’s jaw leaped. “So, what the hell does he do? Freeze them and bleed them to death at the same time? Is this his blood?”

                Ignis shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know what to do, and I hate it.”

                Swallowing hard, Gladio struggled to find words of reassurance. Ignis’ hands trembled as he held Noctis’. He was helpless in this situation, too, and his mood wasn’t a whole lot brighter. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed and folded his hands in his lap.

                “Ig, I wish I could tell you not to worry, but this…” Pausing, he shook his head. “I’m at a loss, Ig. We can’t help them if we can’t wake them.”

                “You think I don’t know that?” Ignis mumbled. “We can’t let this end here. We need to let Noctis and Prompto fight from the inside while we fight out here.”

                “You mean you want to take on Tuudoh together while they struggle with…whatever is happening to them.” Closing his eyes, Gladio scrubbed a hand through his blond hair.

                “What else _can_ we do, Gladio? Sit here and do nothing? Watch them suffer?”

                Raising his head at the thickness of Ignis’ voice, Gladio’s heart dropped. Tears welled in his borrowed eyes, distorting the blue irises. His jaw twitched with the pressure of his clenched teeth. Anger boiled inside Gladio.

                “Tonight,” he stated, reaching across Noctis and Prompto to put a hand on Ignis’ shoulder.

                “What about tonight?” Ignis asked, swiping a hand over his eyes.

                “We’re hunting a monster. Like you said; we can’t do anything else. We need to act, and we need to do it fast.”

                Squaring his shoulders, Ignis sat up straight. “We can’t leave them alone here.”

                “And we can’t take them into danger. They’re safer here.”

                Falling silent in thought, Ignis shrugged Gladio’s hand off and stood. Moving to the other bed, he removed the blanket and brought it back, draping it across their friends.

                Gladio couldn’t look at them any longer. The frost and wetness on Noctis’s skin gave him flashbacks to Ignis’ run-in with the mutated Cryonade. It was the fight that brought them together.

                Sighing through his nose as he tucked the blanket around Noctis and Prompto, Ignis mulled over their disgusting lack of options. He didn’t like any of their choices, but time was running out fast and they had been backed into a corner. Leave his friends here to suffer while they fight? Or stay and watch them struggle alone? Were they dying in whatever mind prison Timorea and Eyoralin locked them in? Was this simply a test of wills? Ignis had no clue, and no amount of asking or thinking would reveal the answer.

                “How will we summon Tuudoh?” he finally asked, turning his full attention to Gladio.

                Shivering from the icy glare in the man’s eyes, Gladio huffed out a breath. “Best we can do is find an open field and call it. They’ve been hounding us, so chances are it won’t be far away. Monsters like that are always willing to fight.”

                “And if it doesn’t show, we’re out of luck. They might die. We might die.”

                “That’s in my job description,” Gladio reminded Ignis, glancing at Noctis. “When I fight for him, I fight with my life.”

                “Are you fighting for his mind or his body?” Ignis asked with a derisive laugh.

                “I’ll defend both. In this case, I’m also fighting for the man I love.”

                “Save the romance for when we are all back where we belong,” replied Ignis, brushing off the reply. “We ought to leave soon if we want to have any sort of preparation time before battle.”

                “You’re okay leaving them here?”

                “Of course not, but better than sitting here uselessly,” he answered, lifting a hand to adjust his glasses, only to remember they weren’t there. He sighed and crossed his arms. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” he repeated softly.

                “Neither can I. Its not in us, Iggy. We fight, no matter how shitty the odds are.”

                Ignis stared down at Noctis and Prompto. He could sense the melancholy he’d been fighting overwhelming him. Shutting down and internalizing wouldn’t do anyone any good. They needed him now more than ever. And he wouldn’t let Gladio do this alone.

                Gladio swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched Ignis fight with himself. He was slipping away, falling into the cracks of Noctis’ indecision and depression.

                “Just remember this isn’t you, Ignis,” Gladio said, seeing a myriad of emotions play out on his face.

                The man shook his head. “It isn’t him, either. I’ve seen him push past this darkness countless times. This is Timorea’s doing. He may not be present, but he’s still affecting me. Possibly because of whatever he’s doing to Noctis. We need to leave, Gladio. The longer I stay, the less sure I am fighting is the right choice.”

                Nodding, Gladio paused before putting his hand to Prompto’s—his own—forehead. “Stay strong, guys. We got this.”

 

***

 

                Eyoralin watched her brother sag heavily against the dusty rock wall and scowled. He’d been floundering all day; his aim weak, his thoughts scattered, his strength barely half what it normally was. Everyone could see the pain splashed across his face, but no one wanted to confront him.

                “Is he okay?” Thanra asked, hefting a sack of potatoes over her shoulder. The concern in her sharp eyes was sweet.

                Eyoralin shook her head. “I don’t think he is.”

                “Surprised Beto isn’t glued to his side.”

                “I don’t think he noticed yet. He’s cleaning weapons, and you know how he is when he gets caught up in his work.”

                Thanra observed her girlfriend for a moment before sighing under her breath. “Go see what he needs. I’ve got this.”

                “You sure? I don’t wanna leave you high and dry on dinner duty.”

                The other woman smiled so brightly it put the sun to shame. “I’m gonna be a mum soon. I’m not gonna let a few spuds get the better of me.”

                Eyoralin snorted and gave Thanra a quick kiss. “I’ll be back soon.”

                “Sure thing, babe.”

                Abandoning her bag of onions, Eyoralin jogged across their campsite to where her brother leaned. Even from where she stood, she could see his knees quake. He was barely keeping himself upright, and the pain twisting his features hurt her.

                “Timorea,” she whispered, grabbing his elbow and offering herself as a leaning post.

                “Leave me be,” he growled.

                “I will do no such thing. You’re clearly unwell, and I wish to help.” Easing the man to the ground in the shade of the rock wall backing their camp, Eyoralin sank to a squat before him. “The pain seems to have skyrocketed since we left the city.”

                “I’ll manage.” Timorea’s words were clipped and muffled as he bowed his head. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he propped his forehead against them and curled his arms over his head.

                “You’ll get yourself killed being stubborn, is what you’ll do. You can’t lead like this, Timorea.”

                “I said I’m fine!” Swinging his arm, the back of his hand caught the side of Eyoralin’s face. Ice crystals blossomed from the tiny cut on her cheek, spidering outward and staining the right side of her face with red hoar frost.

                Eyoralin screamed, clutching her face as the ice seeped into her eye. Her vision faded white. Then red. Then black. Spikes of cold, sharp pain shot through her right eyeball and into her head, her body succumbing to violent shivers.

                Part of her was vaguely aware of the commotion around her, the flurry of activity as people responded to her screams. A hot hand covered her face and the pain receded with a sensation akin to someone pulling cactuar thorns from her head. But when it was done, it was done. The cold disappeared, she didn’t hurt, but she was shaken to her core.

                When she could open her eyes again, the first thing she saw was the teary eyes of her girlfriend. Thanra’s beautiful irises swam with moisture as they rapidly examined Eyoralin’s face. Her reddened, ice-burned skin, the small slice on her cheek, and the now colorless surface of her right eye.

                “Eyo,” she breathed, stroking the woman’s hair.

                “What happened? Why does everything look odd?”

                Thanra’s brow creased and she swiped an angry hand over her eyes. “Your brother hit you and cast his magic on you. Eyo…he did something to your eye. Looks like it's been blinded.”

                Eyoralin stared in confusion.

                “I don’t think he meant to, but I don’t think you should go near him right now.”

                “Something’s wrong,” she said, shaking her head and sitting up. “Timorea!”

                “He’s out cold, Lyn,” Beto answered in her brother’s stead.

                Using Thanra to balance herself, Eyoralin stood. “Why? What happened?” She looked over Thanra’s shoulder to where Beto cradled the unconscious Timorea.

                “It happened really fast,” he told her, his mismatched eyes flicking between the siblings. “When you screamed, he launched at you and covered your face. By the time any of us were able to respond, everything was over.”

                “I watched it all happen,” Thanra said, gentle hands steadying the other woman. “He panicked, trying to heal what he had done. I think it took the last of his strength to try and reverse the spell.”

                Eyoralin clutched Thanra’s shoulders. “He never should have come out here.”

                “I tried telling him that. He refused to see anyone about his headaches, though,” muttered Beto, petting Timorea’s hair. “Stubborn asshole. Are you okay, Lyn?”

                Taking a deep breath, Eyoralin dipped her head in a nod. “I think so.”

                “I’m sorry about your eye.”

                “Don’t be. It’s a minor problem, really.”

                Thanra’s jaw dropped. “I’m glad you’re being positive about this, but you’re blind in one eye, Eyo!”

                “It may not be permanent. I’m just glad I didn’t suffer a more grievous wound. I’m okay, Thanny.” She offered the woman a smile, hoping it would curb her anxiety somewhat.

                A few tears slipped down Thanra’s cheeks and she leaned in to kiss Eyoralin. “You know you guys’ll have to go back to the city in the morning, right?”

                “I already had someone call ahead,” Beto added, shoulders heaving in a sigh.

                Clenching her teeth, Eyoralin looked toward the rest of the squad. They continued getting dinner ready and working through assigned chores.

                “I know this isn’t what you want,” Thanra whispered, “but it’s for the best, sweetheart.”

                “I know, and I won’t fight.” She gave Thanra another quick peck before separating herself from the woman and approaching the boys. She sat down and crossed her legs.

                “He didn’t mean to do it,” Beto assured her as he readjusted his grip on the sleeping man. “He would never hurt you on purpose.”

                “I’m not worried about his motive, Beto. I’m worried about his health. These headaches, or whatever they are, are destroying him.”

                Beto closed his eyes. “I know. And he won’t tell me just how bad it is. Clearly its more than a run-of-the-mill headache.”

                “Don’t worry, B. Eyo will make sure he’s fit as a fiddle for your party next week,” Thanra said, sitting down with them.

                “That’s the last thing on my mind right now. I just want him better. Seeing him like this is so _wrong_.”

                “I know what you mean,” sighed Thanra, eyes on Timorea’s sleeping face. “The only times he’s been out sick is when he was in the hospital for work-related injuries. Oh, and that last migraine or whatever.”

                Fingers trembling, Eyoralin brushed a lock of hair from Timorea’s forehead. Something sparked between them when their skin touched, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Things were not right here. She wasn’t sure why or how, but they were. She just hoped it was all her frazzled mind playing tricks on her.


	26. Who We Are

                Never in his short life had Noctis experienced a cold so intense. Not when he played outside in the snow, not when he soaked his clothes with ice water trying to save Ignis from the pond, not when ice magic backfired and hit him by accident. Nothing compared. And instead of numbing the pain, the cold only heightened it; focusing each stabbing bolt through his body.

                “Ah, you mustn’t die too quickly, Highness,” Timorea instructed with a lazy grin and foggy eyes. “I need you to show me and every delicious agonizing moment of your life. All that heartache. All those tears.” Daemon stain oozed down his face, dripping from his chin in strange ashy trails. He extended his hand and pressed the pad of his thumb between Noctis’ eyes. “Show me the darkness you hide!”

                Images flashed through Noctis’ mind, both his memories, old and faded, and his body’s memories, fresh and open.

                “New misery tastes better than old. Shall I show you what your friends were up to while you suffered and fretted over Mr. Argentum?” he asked, tenderly stroking Noctis’ forehead. “Or perhaps I’ll let you feel your own body and let you suss it out all on your own.”

                A sharp, sadistic smirk pulled at Timorea’s mouth as imaginary hands warmed trails on Noctis; skin. Soft lips brushed against his own, then down his neck, over his shoulder…Noctis swallowed hard, tears springing to his eyes. The kisses moved lower on his body, front and back. Humiliation burned his cheeks as the ghostly sensations coaxed an involuntary moan from his throat.

                Noctis thought it was over when the invisible hands and lips left his body. He couldn’t have been more wrong. A burning sting crawled up his spine, radiating from places he’d rather not think about. A deep fullness settled inside him and he dropped to his knees, teeth clenched, vision blurred with tears, hands shaking.

                Licking his lips, Timorea closed his eyes and hummed softly. “Delicious.”

                A shudder of revulsion raced through Noctis and he directed a watery glare up at the man. The pain settled in his chest had nothing to do with Timorea and his powers.

                “One would think Betrayal would have a bitter flavor, but in my centuries of existence, I have learned otherwise. The taste tends to vary case by case, but overall it shares a lovely spicy-sweet flavor. Like spiced hot cocoa. Sometimes it can be mild…disappointing, even. Other times it can be so intense…” —a pleased smile softened the man’s face as he licked his lips— “You…your emotional internalization, it strengthens the flavors.”

                “Is that all we are to you?” Noctis snarled through clenched teeth, tears clouding his vision. “A food source?”

                “Not entirely inaccurate, dear boy, but more complicated than you can comprehend.” Stepping back, he flicked his fingers toward Noctis, creating more tendrils of red frost on the man’s skin. Tipping his head, he studied Prince Noctis, watching him shake, watching blood run in melted rivulets over his skin, watching him _suffer_.

                Pain.

                Death.

                Depression.

                Isolation.

                Loneliness.

                Anger.

                Noctis Lucis Caelum was a veritable feast of negative emotion.

                Hot tears splashed the backs of Noctis’ hands while Timorea circled him like a hungry shark. He stared down at the blackness beneath him, the same blackness surrounding them, supporting them, swallowing them. Were they floating? Standing on some unseen surface? Question after stupid, pointless question flowed through his mind as he tried to distract himself. Timorea forcibly pulled each and every horrible, dark memory from his mind. Wounds long closed ripped open by brute force.

                “Don’t fight it, Highness. I’m trying to help, you see.”

                A breathy, tired laugh, void of all humor wheezed out of Noctis as he pushed himself up to sit on his heels. “Really? Then you and I have a much different idea of what help means.”

                Once again, the daemon-stained man appeared at eye-level. He smiled, soft and sad through grey-smeared teeth and pitch-black eyes. “Oh, but I _am_ helping. I’m liberating you from a foul existence. One rife with pain and suffering.”

                Noctis’ lip curled as a shiver wracked his body. “I don’t care. I have things to fight for. If I must live in agony so that others can be happy, so be it!”

                “Spoken like a true King of the People.”

                Cold, sharp spears of pain lanced through Noctis, sending him to his hands and knees again. “I have to protect them.”

                A hollow laugh echoed in the Void. “Your friends? Even after knowing how they used your body and that of Mr. Argentum for their own selfish purpose?”

                “They’re all I have left!”

                A blue ripple radiated outward from Noctis, like rings on the surface of a pong. It spread outward quickly, fading into the nothingness.

                Brow furrowed, Timorea took a half-step back. “What was _that_?” he spat. Where the ripple touched his boot, a lone tendril of ashy grey _something_ wafted into the air.

                Noctis didn’t know, but he wanted to find out.

                Clicking his tongue, Timorea lifted his foot and kicked the prince. The rough rubber heel struck his cheek, splitting the skin open. He stood over the young man, rolling him onto his back with his foot and staring down at him.

                “There’s no point in fighting me, Your Highness. It’ll be over faster if you just give in.”

                Pain throbbing in his swollen cheek, Noctis grit his teeth and turned his face away. He wouldn’t give in. He had too much to do, too many people relying on him. People he loved, waiting for him. People who loved him.

                Another ripple, wider, brighter, haloed Noctis. This one pushed Timorea back. He stumbled, a flash of fury twisting his already warped features. He waved his arm in a wide arc and a blast of ice slammed against Noctis. The weight of it froze him to the non-ground.

                “Never” —a stab of ice pierced Noctis’ thigh— “do” —through his shoulder— “that” —his forearm— “again!” —his head. “Stay on the ground and die!” Blue ice and red blood flashed in Noctis’ eyes before the Void, Timorea, everything faded.

 

***

 

                A waking nightmare. This was a waking nightmare. Screaming. Blood. Ice. Monsters she had neither seen or heard of before. The ground opening with puddles of some sort of oily substance where creatures emerged. And in the middle of the chaos, strolled a lone man.

                Eyoralin swung her greatsword with ease, the blade catching one pointy-featured, purple-skinned monstrosity across the middle. Its corpse fell, dissolving into that same oily goo that birthed it. At her back, Thanra did the same.

                “What the fuck is going on?” Thanra demanded, fending off a sentient ball of flaming rock.

                “You think I know?” Eyoralin demanded, spinning and smacking the flat side of her sword against the rock creature. It flew back a few meters, shuddered, blinked its hollow, jagged eyes, and spun toward them again. Both women swung together, the edges of their blades slamming into the beast and cutting it in two.

                “He’s your _brother_!”

                “You’ve known him longer than me! Where’s Beto?”

                Wiping the sweat from her brow, Thanra turned, eyes frantically searching the chaos for the man. When she spotted him, her face fell. “Oh, no.”

                Eyoralin followed the woman’s sight line. Fear and nausea roiled in her gut. Beto stood before Timorea, hands at his sides, palms out to show he was weaponless. Tears poured down his dirt-streaked face. Even over the roar, cries, and clashing of steel on the battlefield, she could hear the pain and confusion in his voice.

                “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand!”

                “I am doing what I have always done. What _we_ have always done.”

                Beto took a step closer to the man. “What are you talking about, Tim? This isn’t _you_. You don’t kill people! Something’s infected you.:

                A sadistic smirk curled Timorea’s lips. “Silly boy. I’ve been slaughtering you useless skinbags for centuries, right alongside my dear, dear sister.” His head turned in an unsettling way and he looked directly into Eyoralin’s eyes.

                “What? N-no. That’s not possible. Timorea, I _know_ you!”

                Timorea sighed, the action full-body and dramatic as he sauntered toward Beto. War waged around them and he couldn’t have looked more comfortable if he tried. “You know a mask, you obnoxious runt. A disguise placed upon me by the Gods as perpetual punishment.”

                The pair stood toe-to-toe now. A smile on one face, anguish on the other. Timorea reached out and put a gentle hand on Beto’s bicep, caressing him. Mismatched eyes closed, tears tracking steadily over his cheeks, Betoro bit back a sob.

                “But I love you.”

                “Love is for humans too weak to know the power of agony.”

                Timorea’s grip tightened as he leaned forward. Pressing his lips to the other man’s, he sank his fingers into Beto’s arm and yanked.

                Eyoralin would never forget the scream that echoed through the night as her brother tore the limb from his fiancé’s torso. Nor would she forget the frozen, crystalized blood arching into the air as the oily black pool swallowed him up.

                Clicking his tongue, Timorea tossed the arm aside. He flicked blood from his fingers and observed his chaos. Sighing, he shook his head. “So weak. Sleeping too much will do that to you,” he scolded the creatures fondly.

                Thanra and Eyoralin exchanged a glance. The squad was managing to hold its own against the monsters, despite their injuries.

                “I’ll go help them. You find out what’s going on,” Thanra said, swiping her hand across her eyes. They could grieve Beto later.

                Swallowing hard, Eyoralin readjusted her grip on her sword and nodded.

                Thanra grabbed her arm before she could walk away. “Be safe, baby. I love you.”

                “I love you, too.” Heart heavy in her chest, Eyoralin approached her brother. As she closed the distance, he held her gaze, smiling at her.

                “Ah! Have you come to your senses, sister?”

                “Who are you?”

                Feigning hurt, Timorea put a hand to his chest. “I’m your twin brother, love! This is _us_ , our chains broken, the Wall no longer keeping us at bay. Damn Lucian magic.”

                “You aren’t my brother! My brother loves and cherishes his friends, his family. He _heals_ , saving dying women in the street. He’s sweet underneath his sarcastic, tough exterior. He isn’t a monster!” Eyoralin blinked her good eye, clearing the blur of tears.

                “Oh, my dear, silly girl. Just accept who you are, lovely.” With a flick of his wrist, bloody ice cracked across the exposed skin of a nearby soldier. He screamed, dropping to his knees.

                “Stop!” Eyoralin screeched, leveling her weapon.

                Timorea regarded her with a sad understanding in his blackened eyes. “Well, it seems I’ll have to break your mask myself.”

                Eyoralin stared into Timorea’s eyes as he blinked soft and slow. There was no reflection in those eyes, yet she could see herself. Her face was his, his was hers. He was familiar, though not entirely comfortable. As he had always been. For lifetimes.

                “Perhaps we’ll need to jog your memory, my love.” Lifting his hand, he beckoned with one finger, never taking his eyes off her.

                There was a scream behind Eyoralin. High pitched. Feminine. She was afraid to look. “Please, no,” she begged quietly.

                “It’s always fun learning what form this chunk of your spirit will take,” Timorea chuckled, pulling Thanra into her line of sight. “Though it’s been so long, I can’t recall why They did it in the first place.”

                Shaking, tears pouring freely from her eyes, Eyoralin forced herself not to reach for the woman. “Don’t hurt her.”

                “That all depends on you,” he told her, twisting a hand in Thanra’s hair. He jerked her head back and she gasped as red hoar frost crept into the strands.

                “I’ll do whatever you want, just…stop this. Please!”

                “Eyo, no! Don’t let him influence you.”

                “Thanny, I won’t let him hurt you. If doing what he wants means saving you and everyone else, I’ll do it.” Eyoralin clenched her teeth. “I’ll do anything you ask, Timorea. Let them all live, and I’ll go wherever you want.”

                Hope glittered in the blue irises still visible of Timorea’s eyes. “You will?”

                A sigh, heavy and sad, passed Eyoralin’s lips. “I will. Let them go. Let Thanra go.”

                “Alright,” he agreed with a smile, releasing Thanra’s hair. “But not without a souvenir of your bond.” Before either woman could move to react, Timorea grabbed Thanra’s face. She screamed, struggling in vain against him as he channeled magic into her. When his hand came away, a frozen, bloodied hole remained where Thanra’s eye should have been.

                Past the clash of steel, the shouts of friends, and the animalistic snarls of monsters, the last thing Eyoralin heard as Timorea touched her forehead, was her own voice howling Thanra’s name.


	27. Lost Souls

                Ignis’ panic-fueled lead foot brought them to the forest in record time. Not a single word passed between them after they left Lestallum—there was no need. They knew where they were going, and what they had to do.

                Heading into the forest, side by side, felt like a death march. Silent, Grim. Darkness falling fast. Even the birds and insects seemed to know the situation was dire and watched on silently.

                Together, Gladio and Ignis trudged through the overgrown grass and flora.  When dusk became too heavy, they switched on their lights. Though nothing followed them, and no otherworldly voices spoke to them, they could sense they weren’t entirely alone out here. And when they reached a clearing, that sense only grew stronger.

                The last shred of daylight disappeared beyond the trees as two viscous puddles of black and purple bubbled out of the grass. Daemon portals. From the portals rose lanky humanoid figures, clad in dark, elaborately embroidered kimono. Long, dimensionless black hair sprouted from their heads in ponytails, bound by leather bands. They both held gently curved swords almost the same length as they were tall.

                “I’ve never seen this type in female form,” Ignis whispered, taking in the distinctive features of the Ronin. The one on the right, the female, wore her kimono hanging off one shoulder, the bandages binding her chest yellowed with age and stained. She shared the same blank face as all the other of her type, save for a puckered scar in place of her left eye.

                Her counterpart, the male, was identical to every other Ronin, with the exception of a missing arm.

                “These ones have been around the block, Iggy. Be careful.” Calling on Prompto’s arsenal, Gladio summoned his Auto Crossbow.

                “You, too.” Flexing his hand, Ignis pulled Noctis’ sword.

                The daemons regarded the men without moving. They held their swords at their sides, watching, studying. These daemons were showing how different they were to their clan type. Instincts were not all these beasts acted on, it seemed.

                _Different._

                Ignis’ brow twitched. “Excuse me?”

                “Uh, these things don’t normally talk to us before we kill ‘em.”

                Ignis raised his hand a stepped forward. “What do you mean?” he asked.

                _Like us._

The eerie, windy whispers whipped about them like a gust preluding a storm.

                _Save them._

_Kill us._

_End it._

Both Ronin sank into defensive stances, their blades at the ready.

                Ignis and Gladio mirrored the daemons.

                A tense moment passed. No one moved, no one breathed, no one so much as blinked. The world was frozen. Until the female made a move. Faster than any human, she rushed Ignis and spun, whipping her sword around in a wide arc. In the last second, Ignis brought his own sword up to counter. Steel caught steel, clashing noisily in the otherwise soundless clearing. The strength of the blow caught Ignis off-guard and he had to adjust his stance to utilize Noctis’ strength. He couldn’t fight the same way he always did, or they would both end up dead.

                Twisting, he shoved the Ronin’s blade back and immediately attacked the beast’s exposed side. A deep slice opened in its purpled flesh. It howled, sliding one sandal-clad foot out and dropping low to put power into an upswing.

                Noctis’ body wasn’t quite as agile or flexible as his own, but Ignis jumped, twisting his body in an evasive move. The blade swept harmlessly past him and gave him another opening to attack. As the edge of his sword cut a hole through fabric and flesh, he vaguely wondered if he could warp as Noctis did. Though he wasn’t sure how, there was only one way to learn.

                Using the same method he utilized to master the armiger, Ignis visualized his results, concentrated, and went for it. Thrusting his arm forward, he let the natural magic in Noctis’ body take over. The air condensed around him, blue energy pulsed at the edges of his vision, and an invisible force yanked him to his destination. Gravity seemed to suspend itself briefly and he hovered in the air above the Ronin for a split second before falling back to Eos. A downward strike of his sword cut deep, sending the daemon reeling.

                While it was disoriented, he moved in to shower it with a barrage of close-quarter attacks. Behind him, Gladio was trying to stay as far out of his opponent’s reach as possible. The quiet thump of arrows lodging in flesh could barely be heard over the sword fight happening simultaneously.

                Gladio grunted, hefting the oversized piece of machinery and unleashing another volley of bolts. The Ronin was beginning to look like a relative of a cactuar. The bolts were as effective as he hoped, however, and he switched over to Prompto’s regular pistol. He knew what to expect from his one training session with the weapon, but the kickback from the weapon was still difficult to compensate for. The first two shots went wide, but after getting himself under control, he peppered the monster’s torso with bullet holes. Black ooze leaked from the wounds.

                Past the noise and the flash of each fired shot, Gladio had no trouble keeping the target in sight. And he was able to keep far enough away that each time the Ronin swung its long sword, it missed by a laughable distance. But it was fast, despite its missing arm. It spun and twirled its blade with ease and closed distances with alarming speed.

                Gladio’s footwork didn’t hold a candle to that of a monster like this. The edge of the Ronin’s sword opened a slice from his elbow to his shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he used the daemon’s proximity to his advantage. Lifting his gun, he fired three shots, point-blank, into the monster’s gnarled, featureless face.

                Gore showered Gladio, coating him in that same black ooze that seemed to create the daemons. Soundlessly, the Ronin dropped to his knees, then over onto his side, tendrils of black and purple coming out of the ground to reclaim its body.

                Without stopping to tend his wound, or clean some of the slime from his face, Gladio quickly found Ignis and rushed to his side. He reached him just as the female Ronin disappeared into whatever otherworldly void they came from.

                “They wanted to die,” Ignis said, staring at the ground.

                “Definitely a first,” Gladio replied with a nod, flexing his injured arm. It could wait to be patched.

                Ignis’ borrowed blue eyes found his, bright with adrenaline. His gaze dropped, seeing the blood running down Gladio’s arm. “Are you okay?”

                He never had a chance to answer as a wail, mournful and broken, filled the night air.

                “This is it, Iggy.”

                “Ready?”

                “As I’ll ever be.”

                The ground shook as a massive black puddle formed before them. The creature they knew as Tuudoh pulled itself from the darkness.

                Gladio took a deep breath. “Noct, Prompto, even if you guys can’t hear me wherever you are, please be safe. Love you idiots.”

                “I second that,” Ignis replied next to him.

                Tuudoh stared down at them, its twisted, shifting features the stuff of nightmares. Pain and anguish rang clear, however. With a scream loud enough to rumble the dirt beneath their feet, it attacked.

 

***

 

                Tears fell in earnest down Prompto’s cheeks. Pain not his own gripped his chest as he absorbed the remainder of Eyoralin’s existence. In her brother’s lucid moments, they helped people. Made the world safer. But Timorea fell into his other self with increasing frequency. Though she felt a tug of familiarity with his destruction, Eyoralin could no recall any of her past lives. Not until the Starscourge finally claimed them.

                “He succumbed quickly after we left Insomnia,” she told him. “It has always been in our veins, a product of our father’s sacrifice lifetimes ago.”

                “What happened to Thanra? Beto? The…your baby?” Prompto swiped his hands over his eyes. She hadn’t shown him their fates despite the other gruesome sights she bestowed upon him.

                Eyoralin bit her lip, looking more a scared young woman than the centuries-old soul she was. This pain was still fresh in the scope of her long life.

                “At first I thought they were both dead. It wasn’t until Timorea’s next shift I realized I was wrong. I wished they were dead when I saw those daemons. Beto, always the same. Always a masterless wanderer carrying a sword. Thanra…jumps. Her soul is part of mine, impossible to kill unless I die as well. She just kinds a new host if her current one is destroyed. Rarely does it resemble her last human form.” Eyoralin’s jaw twitched as she clenched her teeth. Lifting her head, she met Prompto’s eyes and offered him a soft smile. “Thank you for giving her some solace in her last host.”

                Shaking his head, Prompto frowned. “I don’t understand.”

                “She sensed him in you. Just as I do.” Extending her hand, she placed her palm against Prompto’s chest. Warmth spread through his body.

                Prompto’s eyes widened as he searched Eyoralin’s face. “Every lost soul needs a home. Its why I told my story to you.”

                Swallowing hard, he took Eyoralin’s hand and pulled her into a hug. “Let us help you. We can end your suffering.”

                She shook her head against his shoulder but didn’t resist the embrace. “I can’t. Timorea has gained strength, and once I release you, I’ll go back to that first version of myself I showed you. A monster.”

                “This is what we do. We can kill Tuudoh.”

                “No one can kill Tuudoh.”

                “We can. We’ll free you, I promise. Just let me go.”

                Tears sprang to Eyoralin’s eyes as she clutched his shirt. “All I can do is release you into the Void.”

                “What does that mean?”

                “I’ll be serving you up to Timorea on a platter.”

                “Then do it.”

                Inhaling a deep breath, she sat up. She held his gaze for a long while before putting her hand to Prompto’s forehead. “I’m sorry.”

                Though he couldn’t speak, he forgave her in his heart as everything shifted into a world of black, empty nothingness. The Void.


	28. Misery and Violence

                Struggling to breathe, pain coursing through him which was continually refreshed by stabs of ice, Noctis’ world came back into focus. Black and empty, save for himself and Timorea.

                No. That wasn’t right. Two more joined them.

                One of the newcomers touched his back with hands so warm and gentle they belied their owner’s true strength. He knew those hands as well as his own. Feeling them on his battered body made his heart swell in his chest.

                “Leave him alone. If you want to eat so badly, I have plenty to feed you.” The voice was even, devoid of fear.

                Noctis could barely move, but he lifted his head to see the stern determination on Prompto’s face. “Prompto, no.”

                “As tempting as your offer is, Mr. Argentum, you’ve been tainted by my sister’s meddling.” Timorea flicked a glance at Eyoralin, who now stood at his side.

                “I merely seasoned him with some of my own misery, of which I have much,” she hissed back.

                Rubbing gentle circles on Noctis’ back, Prompto studied the twins. These Scourge-infected souls thrived on misery and violence. They tore people apart, inflicting on others the pain they endured each time they lived a life. It wasn’t their faults; no one could go through that many existences knowing every shred of happiness would be stolen from you and come out sane on the other side.

                “Do you think you’re the only one, dear sister?” Timorea glared at the woman, eyes narrow.

                “You cannot tell me how miserable you are when I see the glee on your face as you slaughter innocents!” Eyoralin roared back, daemon stain leaking from the hole where her eye should have been.

                “Only because I _learned_ to enjoy it!” Timorea shouted. “They never expected it, so it was my way of getting back at Them!”

                “Some revenge that is!” she scoffed. “It has only angered Them further.”

                “Maybe so, but no matter what I do, I will never anger them as much as _you_ , dear sister. Imagine,” Timorea snarled, turning back to Noctis and Prompto, “making the Astrals so angry, they split your soul so you will never be able to reach your full potential. You will never be complete, always chasing that lost part of yourself.”

                Grabbing Prompto’s hand and struggling to get his feet under him, Noctis staggered to his feet. Prompto kept close, using himself as a leaning post for the other man.

                “You guys bring sibling rivalry to an all new low,” Noctis grumbled, shaking his head at the pair.

                “Uh, taunting them probably isn’t the smartest idea, Noct,” Prompto whispered, gaze flicking from the twins to his boyfriend.

                “You may be strong, but you’re both alone and scared. Children with no guidance,” Noctis continued, squeezing Prompto’s hand, his own quaking. “You’ve hated yourselves and everyone else for so long now, you don’t know how to handle the sight of happiness and healthy relationships.”

                Prompto gaped at Noctis. Where was this outspoken bravado coming from?

                “You can’t punish others because of what fate dealt you.”

                The steel in Noctis’ eyes sent a shiver through Prompto.

                “That’s a funny statement coming from you, Highness,” growled Eyoralin, extending her hand to her side. Pain twitched on her face as blood poured down her arm, leaking through her skin. The red liquid ran to her palm, collecting and crystallizing, hardening as it dripped. It flowed into her shaking hand, solidifying until she held a longsword. A blade made of blood.

                Leveling the weapon, she eyed the men. “You have no right to preach about fate!”

                “I have every right!” Noctis screamed back, blue light glowing within him.

                Prompto’s eyes grew wide in awe. This was nothing like the pink light that took over when Noctis summoned the power of the Astrals. This was calm, warm despite the color, deeper than the Godly contracts. This pulled from sources near Noctis’ heart, and Prompto could feel the power of it thrumming in his own chest.

                Snarling, Timorea raised his hand to put a stop to their shouting. Daggers of ice shot from his fingertips.

                Prompto instinctively lifted his arm in a defensive reaction and the Void briefly lit up with a flash of blue a few shades lighter than the glow emanating from Noctis. A shield the height of Gladio, and just as wide, shone brightly before them.

                “What…?” Brows creased, Timorea stared at the men. “How is this possible?”

                “My brothers make me stronger,” hissed Noctis, feeling the tingle of the armiger in his body. Daggers of light to match the shield materialized in his hands.

                Rolling his black eyes, Timorea groaned. “Oh, don’t give me that ridiculous nonsense. Your fairy tale notions won’t get you far, I’m afraid.”

                “Enough posturing, Timorea. Spend too much time playing with your food and it will get cold.”

                The man laughed. “Correct you are, love. Shall we do this together for old time’s sake?”

                Shifting into a defensive stance with her sword, Eyoralin glanced at Timorea. “You say that like we aren’t doomed to spend eternity together.”

                “Blame the Six and our father for that, m’dear.” Shaking his head, Timorea conjured up a flurry in his palm.

                Prompto shot a panicked glance at Noctis, who held his head high with a dark stare focused on the cursed siblings. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his fists and shifted his weightless shield to protect them both.

                “We’re really doing this?” Prompto whispered.

                “Do we have a choice?”

                Swallowing hard, Prompto dropped into a defensive stance of his own, one he had seen Gladio use a hundred times. Noctis lifted his hands, crossing his daggers.

                “Do Iggy proud with those.”

                “Same goes for Gladio with that shield. He’ll be getting a report at the end of this.” Noctis grinned, his swollen cheek making the expression comical.

                Though Noctis could barely stand, and Prompto was exhausted from living through an entire lifetime not his own, the men stood together, ready to take on the immortal souls before them.

 

***

 

                An arm swept through the air where Ignis stood barely half a second earlier. The clawed fingers destroyed the blue ghost that stood in his place. The trajectory of his warp was a little off, but he came out of it behind Tuudoh and used that to his advantage. Stepping in an elegant half-spin, Ignis used the momentum to swing his blade in an arcing slash. The edge of the sword sliced deep into the monster’s exposed back, cutting through the armor-like outfit like butter.

                Tuudoh howled, standing up to its full height as its two-toned voice shook the trees. Spinning toward Ignis, it took another clumsy swipe.

                Ignis was more sure-footed than his enormous opponent and dodged the attack with ease. He played with the beast, taking a few jabs, distracting it so Gladio could get in a few shots.

                An explosion lit up the night sky, the sound deafening Ignis. Stunned, he barely had time to move as Tuudoh toppled forward, off-balanced by the force against its back.

                “Ifrit’s balls!” His wide eyes whipped toward Gladio, who stood a short distance away, wearing an excited grin and holding some sort of long, tubular weapon. “Put that away before you kill yourself! Or me!”

                Gladio laughed as he dismissed the weapon. “Gotta admit it does a good job, though!”

                Trying to ignore the ringing in his ears, Ignis turned back to where Tuudoh crouched on gangly hands and knees, smoke rising from the blackened, gnarled wound in its back.  The daemon was down, weakened, and they ought to be using this to their advantage. Readjusting his grip on his sword, he charged at Tuudoh.

                Before he even made it ten steps, a wave of blue light erupted from under its flesh and blasted outward like a shockwave. Thinking Gladio discovered another of Prompto’s odd weapons, he glanced back at the man, only to find his eyes wide in shock.

                “The hell was that?” Gladio squeaked.

                “I…” Ignis shook his head. He had no answer.

                “Noctis and Prompto? Maybe?” Gladio’s voice wavered, unsure.

                “At this point, I’m willing to believe anything.”

                “Hey!” Gladio ran the few steps to Ignis’ side while Tuudoh moaned on the ground.

                “Not now, Gladio. We should be using this time to attack!”

                The man grabbed his arm, the blood drying on his hand smearing on Ignis’ skin. “Use Noct’s fire magic on it. Timorea is ice-based, right? Try it.”

                Ignis blinked at Gladio. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Placing a quick, rough peck on Gladio’s dirt-smudged cheek, Ignis pulled a magic flask from the armiger. Heat radiated from the vessel, indicating the element inside. He hefted it in his palm, the heat almost too much to handle. Taking a long step forward, he lobbed the flask.

                The container arced through the air, heavy yet weightless. Falling just short of Tuudoh, the flask shattered against the ground and a ball of white-orange fire roared skyward. The flames licked Tuudoh’s body, scorching flesh, and clothes. It screamed, the voice taking on a more masculine note as it sprung to its too-long legs. The creature stumbled, tripping and holding its head.

                “Gladio!”

                Seeming to read his mind, the man tossed his pistol toward Ignis, and Ignis tossed his sword to Gladio. They rushed the daemon, letting their bodies carry out the attack before they could even think about it.

                Tuudoh shrieked, lashing out with only half the strength of their first encounter. The clumsy strikes missed the men and dented the ground or splintered trees. Fractions of unintelligible words spilled from ever-shifting lips as wild blue-white eyes flicked about.

                Exchanging weapons again, Ignis and Gladio clasped hands as they passed one another. In sync, they spin and attacked again. Ignis cut into the confused monster as Gladio peppered it with bullets.

                Flailing like a deranged beast, Tuudoh landed a lucky blow. A massive clawed hand caught Ignis across the belly. The tips of the claws sliced cloth and flesh, but the blow threw him a dozen feet. His back struck a tree trunk and the air rushed from his lungs. Sliding to the ground, he wheezed in pain.

                Gladio shouted, emptying his magazine into Tuudoh’s torso. He wanted to get to Ignis, but he had to distract the daemon from doing the same.

                Vision blurred and head spinning, Ignis got to his knees and took a deep breath. His ribs screamed, but he pushed the pain out of his mind and staggered to his feet. Short, sharp breaths eased the howling of his chest and lessened the burning sting of the slices across his belly.

                Recalling his sword, Ignis joined the battle once again. With a guttural shout, he swung his weapon. The edge of the blade lodged in Tuudoh’s arm. Ignis wrenched it free and swung again, hacking at the same wound.

                So focused on his task, he didn’t notice Tuudoh’s attention shift back to him. Lucky for him, Gladio did.

                “Sonuva—!” Grabbing Ignis’ collar, Gladio jerked him back and they went down in a heap. Claws hissed through the air above them, splattering them with inky blood.

                Gladio held Ignis, ignoring the sting of his wounds and being careful of the other man’s. “Don’t lose yourself,” he whispered in his ear.

                Rolling away from the other and getting to his feet, Ignis nodded, expression grim. “Apologies. I won’t get distracted by an opening again.”

                “Good. Let’s get this over with.” Smacking Ignis’ shoulder, Gladio jogged off to find an opening of his own.

                Feeling his energy draining by the minute, Ignis flexed his hand around the handle of his sword and renewed his focus. Tuudoh _was_ weakening, but it remained to be seen who would outlast the other.


	29. Memories of Joy

                Moving in the Void was a lot like swimming on land. Each motion was met with resistance and slowed considerably. A fair fight, this did not make.

                Prompto reflected spears of ice, but also bounced his fair share off his arms and legs. Shallow slices bled and iced over, giving movement another layer of difficulty. Defending himself was hard enough but keeping Noctis safe was his priority. He could endure the wounds if it meant no more blood would be let from the man’s body.

                Pushing himself, he slipped between Noctis and Eyoralin. Her sword struck his shield, bouncing off with a bright flash. Even if she wasn’t using her full strength, the attack made him stumble and fall to one knee. His grip faltered as a cold spike sank into his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, beads of sweat trickled down his face. Spinning, he swung the shield like a club and blindsided Timorea. A dull, comical _bong_ rang out despite the shield being made of light instead of steel.

                Disoriented, Timorea stumbled, clutching his head.

                Noctis lashed out with the daggers, but barely scratched Eyoralin’s armor. He was weakened from his struggle against Timorea.

                “Prom, I can’t do this alone,” he huffed, falling against the man’s back. “We’ve gotta work together to this; one on one isn’t working.”

                Pushing back to support the sagging Noct’s weight, Prompto risked a glance over his shoulder. “You don’t _have_ to do this alone. I asked Eyoralin to bring me here. I am prepared to die if it’ll keep you safe, Noct.”

                A tightness settled in Noctis’ chest and tears burned his eyes. “I won’t let that happen. We’ll get out of this together, you dummy.”

                “We have to help them, too,” Prompto continued, pretending the hitch in Noct’s voice wasn’t shaking his resolve.

                “We will. I know better than anyone what it means to have your life in the hands of the Astrals. Do you hear that, Timorea? We _will_ free you!” Noctis stood up straight and stepped toward the man.

                “How?” Timorea spat, turning his daemon-stained face toward the prince. Fury marred his once handsome features. “You cannot kill the immortal!”

                “I’m sure the Marshall would have something to say about that,” Prompto joked.

                “I told you repeatedly there’s nothing you can do,” Eyoralin growled, swinging her sword weakly.

                Prompto twisted, easily deflecting the attack.

                “We can starve you,” Noctis answered simply, twirling his daggers and making a rapid strike against Timorea.

                Barring his blackened teeth in a snarl, the man stepped back to avoid a second quick attack. “Starve us? With all the desolation between you two, I could live forever!”

                “I think it’s time we turn the tables, Prompto. Tell him how life has moments that are not horrible and soul-crushing. Tell him we have things to live for. _People_ to live for!” Noctis moved closer to Timorea. With each step, an inner glow lit the man up, radiating from him in pure power. “Tell him how even he, long ago, had things to live for. The Astrals do not control your emotions, did not strip away your humanity. _You_ did that. You only have yourself to blame for your fate, Timorea.”

                Warmth pooled in Prompto’s chest as Noctis spoke, the light growing in him as well. He watched Noctis with wide eyes and he looked somehow older. More regal. More mature.

                “What your sister showed me may have only been one of your lives, but I saw you happy. Saw you both _happy_. In love with two amazing people,” Prompto added to Noctis’ speech, lowering his shield and approaching Eyoralin. “I know Tuudoh isn’t your fault. But you don’t have to wallow in this hatred.”

                “What do you know, brat?” growled Timorea, clenching his fists. Blood leeched from Prompto’s skin, icing over as it did. “Our father infected us, and our mother condoned it! They _knew_ this would happen, yet they still conceived us. But did they take responsibility? No! They shunned us off to strangers _repeatedly_ so we would fear our gifts and make the same mistakes over and over and _over_ until we finally succumbed to the Scourge! We were trapped in that monstrosity until you came along. Your dissonance rang clear in Tuudoh and woke our souls.”

                Noctis scoffed. “Were you both so desperate for attention your daemon showed up because of a little spat? That’s pretty pathetic.”

                “Sustenance, you idiot! I am not about to let my sister die, even if it means hunting for petty reasons!”

                Eyoralin gasped, her good eye finding Timorea.

                The words sank in and the blackness of Timorea’s eyes faded. Human eyes, an odd white-blue, now watched Noctis and Prompto.

                “A daemon that cares? That’s a new one,” Noctis said, boredom dripping from his voice.

                Shivering and in pain, Prompto’s legs quaked with the effort to hold him up. He had no idea Noctis was capable of this sort of attitude-driven, bluffing, negotiation. It was almost like reverse psychology.

                “Silence!” With a wide sweep of his hand, a wall of ice blasted into the men, shoving them backward.

                Prompto caught Noctis, toppling under his weight. The light faded drastically as his posturing was derailed.

                “Your magic, sweet and heady, magnified your anger and called us, Noctis Lucis Caelum. This is _your_ fault. You called to us, and now you will pay the price!” Another wave of his hand and Noctis was thrown away from Prompto. Timorea grabbed the blond, hauling him upright by his hair. He turned to his sister, eyes the purest black once again.

                “Sister dearest, won’t you do me the honor of killing your little pet? And don’t think I don’t know whose soul resides in this freckled pup.”

                The hole in Eyoralin’s chest oozed thick black globs at the suggestion, almost like her missing heart was crying. Inhaling a deep, shaky breath, she lifted her weapon. Red tears tracked down her cheeks and she shifted her footing. Closing her eyes, she thrust the blade forward.

                A piercing, broken scream filled the Void.

                The blood sword tore open Noctis’ side as he put himself in the path of death, yet still pierced Prompto.

                The world froze for a heartbeat before a power, blinding light exploded from the men. The Void turned white for the first time in eternity.

                Timorea and Eyoralin were thrown backward by the shockwave. Noctis and Prompto crumbled into a heap. Everything was still and silent.

                Fighting through his pain, Noctis struggled to his knees. Blood soaked his side, his vision blurred and pulsed around the edges, his limbs were weak and heavy. Beneath him, Prompto lay prone, his wound bubbling with dark blood each time he took a labored breath. Thankfully the sword was moved by Noctis’ intervention and hadn’t hit anything vital, just muscle and fat, but he was still losing a lot of blood.

                Shaking like a leaf, Noctis pressed his hands over the wound and lifted his head to find Timorea and Eyoralin. To either side of where he and Prompto lay, they swayed to their feet, thick black smoke rising off their bodies.

                Prompto coughed, his face contorting in pain. Periwinkle eyes fluttered open and he met Noctis’ panicked gaze.

                “So we’re really doing this, hey?” he wheezed. “Killing them with kindness?”

                “Shut up, you idiot. Don’t waste your strength making stupid jokes,” Noctis scolded, tears turning his eyes watery.

                Prompto chuckled, weak and airy. “Y’know pal, if this is where it all ends for me, I don’t have any regrets.”

                “I said shut up! You aren’t skipping out on me that easy, you hear? I’m not done with you, dammit! If you leave me all alone, who’s gonna help me save the world?” Hot tears spilled down Noctis’ cheeks to fall on Prompto’s freckled skin.

                Lifting a trembling hand, Prompto cupped the side of Noctis’ face and searched his eyes. “Dude, no sadness, remember? Be happy, okay? That’s how we end this. With good memories.”

                Midnight eyes grew wide as a soft white glow haloed the blond mess of Prompto’s hair. As the man smiled, the glow grew, soon encircling his entire body.

                “What are you doing?” Noctis hissed, gaze flicking toward their enemy as Prompto’s hand slid to his chest.

                “They had lovers once. They were happy. I want to remind them what that was like. Everyone can use a little light in the darkness.”

                “H-hey! Don’t try to sit up!”

                Pushing away the man’s concern, Prompto gripped his side and sat up. Breathing hard, he looked from Noctis to Eyoralin to Timorea.

                “I’m not normally big on exhibitionism, but I think I’ll make an exception this once,” the man muttered. “Hey! You two pay attention!” he called, drawing the weakened twins’ gaze.

                Noctis could only watch, dumbfounded.

                “Life may have dealt us shit cards, but when you’ve got family or friends who love you, things seem that much better, right? You guys feed on misery, but _none_ of my misery matters when I’m with him. A single kiss can make my heart swell to bursting, and since you brought us here, I think we should be the ones to teach you pain isn’t the only thing in life.”

                “What are you blathering about?” Timorea wheezed, taking a staggering step toward them.

                Prompto chuckled, but it turned into a cough and he winced. “Y’know, at this point I have no idea. But if I’m gonna die, I’m gonna give Noct one last kiss. And I’m gonna make it a damn good one!”

                Reaching out, Prompto grabbed a fistful of Noctis’ shirt and yanked him forward. They crashed together, lips on lips, eyes falling shut and head spreading through their bodies. A thousand memories of a thousand kisses raced through their minds, bringing with them all the love and joy they felt in those moments. It lit a fire in them, the light spilling from their bodies. They shone brightly, lost souls in their own right, coming together to light the way for others.

                When they parted, Prompto bumped his forehead against Noctis’ and giggled.

                “Wow,” breathed Noctis.

                Tearing their eyes away from one another, the men squinted into the bright white light surrounding them. Shapes of people stood in a circle, shielding them from the twins. Some distinguishable, some a little hazy, all who had brought them happiness in their lives. Memories of joy.

                Inside the circle, standing close to Noctis and Prompto and shining brighter than all the others, were Gladio and Ignis.

                “Hey, Noct?”

                “Yeah?”

                “I think we got this.”

                They were losing blood, barely able to move, trapped in a world of daemons, but Noct agreed.

                “Yeah. We got this.”


	30. Rest Now

                Every time Ignis’ sword slice flesh, or Gladio’s bullets tore a new hole, light spilled out of the daemon Tuudoh. White-blue, like the shockwave before, but constant and growing brighter.

                “I don’t think I can take much more,” panted Gladio, sweat plastering hair to his forehead and neck. Exhaustion etched his features. “My hands are cramping.

                “We _are_ wearing it down,” Ignis replied. He didn’t sound much better than Gladio, and he looked even worse. Blood and dirt caked them from head to toe, some theirs, some not.

                “It’s wearing me down!” Gladio complained, sounding a bit too much like Prompto for his liking.

                “Stay strong, Gladio.”

                The man groaned, shook out his hands, and summoned dual pistols. He unleashed another volley into Tuudoh’s swiss cheese torso.

                “It’s more holes than meat! How’s it still standing?”

                Ignis couldn’t answer that. All he could do was place a well-timed swing and slice off two of its fingers. The digits hit the grass and sizzled away.

                Tuudoh howled and tried to attack, but it stumbled, tripping on its own gangly limbs. Humiliation and pain warred on its ever-shifting features. Its eyes were the only constant, and they clearly broadcasted its inner turmoil.

                Exhausted, Ignis missed an easy attack as his foot slipped in loose soil, making him stumble. Noctis’ body had no stamina left, and his magic was dangerously low as well.

                There _had_ to be an end in sight. Either they died, or it did.

                Gladio hauled Ignis to his feet, turned, and continued to shoot. He had no idea how much ammo he had gone through, or how much he had left. His hands hurt, his arms ached, and his ears were ringing steadily. The ground looked like the floor of a slaughterhouse from all the blood and bits of undissolved flesh Tuudoh had lost, yet the thing just kept coming at them.

                “I have one more fire flask,” Ignis mumbled.

                Gladio barely heard him, but the wall of fire that followed his words made his statement clear. A blast of heat hit him in the face and Tuudoh’s low, mournful howl filled his ears. Strands of light spilled from cracks in its charred body, and it staggered clumsily about the clearing. Thrashing blindly, it tried to find a target before the last bit of strength left it.

                Collapsing to its knees with a thunderous rumble of the earth beneath it, Tuudoh heaved.

                With no more fight left in him, Ignis’ legs gave out as well. He watched in horrified silence as the body of this daemon played out its death throes. Massive, ungainly frame twitching, pure darkness slid from its wounds in thick strands and globs as the streams of light pushed it out. Its human face, both male and female, eased and softened. Despite its grievous wounds, it looked almost…at peace.

                Gladio collapsed next to Ignis, quietly wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The body of Tuudoh struggled against death, but the spirits inside embraced it. The light leaking from the creature soon enveloped its entire body.

                “You think that’s the end?” Gladio asked, voice rough and slurred.

                “It’s not the end until we’re all back where we belong,” Ignis replied.

                A cool, gentle hand touched Ignis’ cheek, though no one stood beside him. He tensed, immediately recognizing the presence.

                “Relax, Mr. Scientia. You can rest now.”

                Unable to reply or warn Gladio, Ignis’ eyelids grew heavy. He swayed, fighting to stay awake.

                “No more harm shall come to you or yours. I make my last stand on this plane doing what I was always meant to do; protect.”

                Sleep hit Ignis like a wall and he tipped over. He was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

 

***

 

                Prompto held Gladio’s shield above them as ice and blood shards rained down around them. One by one the Memories attacked the twins, whittling down their resolve. Each one absorbed darkness, stripping the tainted souls clean. Underneath their pain and torment, their true purpose became clear. If not for the infection passed down to them, they would have been guardians. Protectors of the people, not unlike the Oracle.

                But time and anguish destroyed them. One life after another, abuse, pain, hardship, loss added up, piled up, blocked out the light. No one had been able to help the twins chip away at their darkness.

                Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis knew what it meant to stand toe-to-toe with darkness. Though they may not know it, they were the Guardians of Light.

                “Not much longer,” Noctis assured Prompto, trying to help him hold the shield with his own rubbery arms. Eyes locked on the man, it broke his heart to see the only color on Prompto’s face was caused by droplets of blood.

                The shield sagged.

                Pushing away the negative thought, he pictured Prompto happy and healthy. Something they would both be when this was all over with.

                Screaming echoed all around them as the last of the Memories went to work. Gladio and Ignis were the final act, longest beside them, and strongest Memories.

                The shining, glowing outlines of their friends delivered a devastating coordinated attack on the pair. Greatsword and lance slicing and piercing any lingering shadows. There was no sound as the stand-ins delivered blow after blow, breaking through the remnants of defense Eyoralin and Timorea clung to.

                Once they inevitably faded, a heavy quiet hung over the Void. The darkness returned to the world, but this time it didn’t feel as deep or as frightening.

                Cautiously, Noctis lifted his head. They were alone. Immediate panic rumbled in his gut. Were they trapped here forever?

                Unable to support the shield any longer, Prompto let the barrier of light dissolve as he collapsed. He hurt, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

                _You kept your promise._

                Brow furrowed, Prompto tried to find the woman.

                _Rest now, Prompto. Take your prince home and sleep in his arms until you are ready to fight again. Thank you for all you have done, and all you will do._

                Prompto smiled softly as sleep called him. _Find Thanra in the afterlife and be happy_ , he wished on her behalf. Peace and calm filled him as he slipped into much-needed sleep.

                Noctis’ eyelids grew heavy as he watched Prompto drift off. He wasn’t going to fight it, nor did he want to. He was tired.

                _He carries a very special spirit. Protect him._

                Promising on his life he would keep Prompto safe, Noctis fell asleep beside the peaceful blond.


	31. Home Again

                 The soft chirp of birds and the gentle buzz of insects paired nicely with the sweet scent of dew on the grass. A perfect morning. Too bad every inch of his body ached with overuse. He was stiff and sore, and moving would be a bitch.

                Noctis started off small and opened his eyes.

                Mocking his headache, the sun beat down on him, blinding him after so long in the blackness of the Void. Squinting, he let out a groan. He froze. That was _his_ voice. His _own_ voice, no stupid accent or anything!

                Eyes wide, Noctis flung himself into a sitting position and immediately regretted it. Every muscle screamed at him. But they were _his_ muscles. Under _his_ black khakis. _His_ shirt. _His_ boots. _His_ body! Never in his life had he been so relieved to be himself.

                “Oww,” moaned the sweetest voice to ever grace his ears.

                On the ground beside Noctis, Prompto stirred. _His_ Prompto. _His_ blond-haired, freckle-faced, goofy boyfriend.

                An invisible hand close around Noctis’ heart and a sob tore from his throat. Before Prompto could even sit up, Noctis flung his arms around the man’s neck and buried his face against his shoulder. He choked out the man’s name.

                Returning the embrace, Prompto hid his face in oily black hair. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice tight.

                “My Prompto,” Noctis mumbled, heat flushing his cheeks.

                “I’m here, pal. I’m here.” Hugging Noctis with his own arms again felt like the greatest gift he could ever receive. “My Noct,” he added, smiling against the man’s hair.

                They held one another, unmoving for a long time. It wasn’t until Noctis’ phone rang they even considered letting go. Slowly, babying sore muscles, Noctis reached for the device. The ringing stopped before he could answer, but a text came in shortly after.

                “Ignis wondering if we’re alive,” he chuckled, tapping out a short response.

                “I think so,” Prompto replied, patting himself down. “Wounded though,” he added, noticing the cut on his forearm and the slices across Noct’s stomach.

                Without Ignis to tell him no, Noctis summoned one of their strongest curatives and broke the vial between them. Green and white magic absorbed into their injuries, closing the flesh and easing the pain.

                “Where the hell are we?” Noctis wondered out loud as he pushed himself to his feet. He hauled Prompto up after him.

                “Let’s find the road. We can get a better idea from there.”

                Nodding, Noctis followed Prompto from the clearing. He stayed close enough to the man as they walked that he could reach out and touch him if he desired. And he did desire. He needed to keep assuring himself Prompto was here and safe. The image of him at Death’s door would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

                After a short trek through the woods, they came to the road, and the blessed sight of the Regalia unharmed. With the spire of the Lestallum power plant visible in the distance, it wasn’t hard to find their bearings.

                Anxious to see their friends, Noctis and Prompto climbed into the car and headed back to town. Noctis didn’t speak, but Prompto had no trouble seeing how worried he was. Between his speeding, the white-knuckled grip on the wheel, and the crease between his brows, it was obvious. Prompto had to admit he was concerned, too. He wouldn’t be able to calm down entirely until he saw with his own two eyes they were in one piece.

                Thanks to empty roads and Noct’s heavy foot, it wasn’t even noon when they pulled into Lestallum. Neither of them heard another word from Gladio or Ignis since that text, and it didn’t help ease their worry. Something seemed wrong.

                Sprinting through the twists and turns of the little city, they made for the Leville. Racing through the lobby of the hotel, they thundered up the stairs to their suite. Throwing open the door, they burst inside…and stopped dead.

                Neither Ignis nor Gladio had moved from the bed since last night. Blood stained the sheets, their skin, and clothes. Gaping wounds, red and raw, were in the exact places Noctis and Prompto had received their injuries in the Void.

                Skin ashy and lips tinged with blue, Gladio and Ignis showed no signs of life.

                “Specs!” Noctis cried, tripping over himself to reach the bed. Prompto wasn’t far behind.

                “C’mon, big guy. I know you’re in there,” muttered Prompto, patting Gladio’s cooling cheek.

                Neither man stirred. They weren’t even breathing.

                Body reacting separate from his panicked emotions, Noctis couldn’t even remember pulling two tufts of Phoenix Down from their stash in the armiger. This would only work if they passed recently, or still had some shred of life. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

                Shoving one into Prompto’s hand, he slapped the other one to Ignis’ chest. The soft red and yellow feather disappeared in swirls of magical sparkles. The life-giving essence sank into the man’s body and vanished.

                Agonizing seconds ticked by and fear grew in Noctis. An impossibly long time passed, but eventually, both men inhaled deep, gasping breaths.

                Noctis sagged with relief as Prompto threw his arms around Gladio.

                “Don’t scare us like that!”

                “I could request the same,” groaned Ignis.

                Gladio squeezed Prompto in a bear hug. “Glad you guys are okay.”

                “I’m happy to be back in my own body, so please don’t crush my ribs before I can enjoy it again,” Prompto wheezed, pushing back against Gladio.

                Sitting up, Ignis pushed his hair off his forehead and evaluated himself. “It is a relief to be back. However, there is something I need to apologize for, Highness.”

                Noctis held up a hand. “Don’t. Timorea showed me everything, and I don’t blame you. Honestly, I came pretty close to doing the same. Let’s just forget about it, okay?” His entire body expanded with a sigh. “After all, with what I put your body through, I think we’re even.”

                “Death is a little more extreme than rough sex, Noct,” Gladio said as he released Prompto and sat up.

                The other three blushed to varying degrees.

                “Be that as it may, I’m deeply sorry,” Ignis muttered after clearing his throat.

                “So…if you guys were laying here dying, who called you?” Prompto asked Noctis, effectively changing the subject to safer grounds.

                Noctis lifted a hand to adjust the glasses he no longer wore. “Good question.”

                “Before I fell asleep, Timorea said he would protect us. Perhaps it was him?” Ignis suggested, glancing at Gladio.

                “Don’t care. Just happy I’m alive and in my own body again,” said Gladio, hand falling in a puddle of tacky blood as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He paused, peeling his hand away from the soiled fabric.

                “Dude. Gross.”

                Eyes wide, Noctis and Ignis stared at him.

                “Uh, that’s my line, big guy,” Prompto teased.

                Rolling his eyes, Gladio grumbled something under his breath.

                “I think we all may share each other’s quirks for a while. At least until we reacclimate,” Ignis offered, patting Gladio’s back.

                “As long as I can shower and eat, I’ll be quite content,” Noctis said, imitating Ignis’ accents for the last two words. Grinning, he gave his friend a playful shove.

                “Amusing, Noct,” Ignis grumbled back.

                “I thought so.”

                “Uh, guys?”

                “What’s up?” Fighting the urge to reach across the bed and hold Prompto’s hand, Noctis held his gaze instead.

                “When we get back to Insomnia, I want to have a memorial for Eyoralin and Timorea.”

                “What for?” Gladio asked, biting his tongue against a protest.

                “What happened to them, what they did…it wasn’t their fault. They were good people, once. Eyoralin let me experience her last life before Tuudoh, and…I don’t want any of them to be forgotten.”

                Ignis dipped his head in a soft nod. “You’re a good man, Prompto.”

                Pride swelled in Noctis’ chest as Prompto blushed at the compliment. He laughed as Gladio captured him in a headlock and the teasing began again. Good natured and loving. He was lucky to have Prompto.

                They were all lucky to have each other. They would have to rebuild a world on the strength of each other’s shoulders after all.

                After what they had been through, Noctis didn’t think anything could break them. He’d like to see the Astrals try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes my longest FFXV fic to date. This project became way bigger than I ever expected, even if it isn't one of my better performing fics. Thank you everyone who has been here to read it, and everyone who commented along the way. I have mixed feelings about this one, but I won't get into it here. Just know I am grateful for every one of my readers.


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